


The Concierge & The Citadel

by Rosalie_Reddington



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Minor Character Death, Porn With Plot, Romance, Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death, Time Skips, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2019-11-28 07:25:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 165,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18205319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosalie_Reddington/pseuds/Rosalie_Reddington
Summary: "There are few that understand love and loss more than I..." Raymond Reddington once had a relatively normal life. A wife, a child, a few good friends. Fate was unkind when it took those he loved. Now, as he faces death row, fate returns a familiar face that will bring memories, joy, and love back to Red's life. Pre-Blacklist Years (Mostly) Cannon Compliant. Will follow through till end of series.





	1. Prologue: Found Something

Elizabeth Keen sat miserably at her desk in the Post Office. She had been in the penitentiary the night before, had stayed and watched in horror as Raymond Reddington was executed. The crippling guilt in her gut felt like a lead weight that she would never be rid of. To add to the horror of last night, just a few minutes after Red's heart stopped beating, an explosion occurred on the exterior of the prison. An extraction team had come in and stolen Red's body right from the execution room. The task force was horrified at this turn of events, and had spent the next 36 hours trying to figure out what happened.

“Um, Liz? Liz!... Agent Keen!”

Liz turned to see Aram running after her with his laptop in tow. 

“You’ve got to see this,” he said, grabbing her arm and dragging her into Cooper’s office. Cooper, Samar, and Ressler were already waiting, sitting in front of a large computer screen. As the door closed, Aram moved around the room, closing all of the blinds before walking up to the screen.

Cooper yawned, “Alright Aram. You have all of us. What is this about?”

Amar took a deep breath and looked nervously around the room. “I was reviewing the footage from the penitentiary like you asked… and I found something.”

Liz's eyes were wide, “You saw who took Reddington’s body?”

Aram nodded, “There’s something else, though,” he said quietly. 

Ressler looked questioningly at him, “...Aram? What did you find?”

He turned on the computer screen, showing the closed circuit feeds of the medical staff lounge adjoining the execution room. He dialed back the footage to 11:46 PM and hit play.

“Look at this.”

The task force watched as the nurse clumsily tossed the syringes onto the floor. 

Aram slowed it down even further, “Watch her hands,” he whispered. 

As the door was closing, they watched the woman tilt the tray and slide the three syringes into her right hand. Her left hand released the tray and dropped three different syringes to the floor. The task force could only gape at the screen. When the older nurse bent to pick up the fallen syringes, the blonde nurse quietly tossed the ones containing the execution drugs into the trash.

“Aram?” Samar asked, looking concerned.

“There’s more.” He pulled up the feed from the execution and fast-forwarded to 12:02 AM. “As soon as that explosion occurred, the executioner closed the curtain... This is what happened after the curtain was closed.” 

The task force watched as the same blonde nurse pulled four different syringes from the pocket of her scrubs and quickly pushed them through the IV. When the woman was caught by the executioner they all gasped in horror as she slit the man’s throat. The younger of the two nurses screamed and tried to run but the woman flung the same scalpel straight into the nurse's chest. 

Liz couldn’t believe what she was seeing as the woman untied Redington and removed him from the heart monitor cords. Five associates dressed in black riot gear came into the room carrying a gurney. They hoisted Reddington onto it and hurried him out of the room. One associate stopped to hand a holster vest to the woman, who removed her scrubs and strapped the holster on.

Aram then switched to a dual camera feed. One showed the hallway which the associates carried Reddington through, the other showed a large black suv parked in front of the detonation sight. As they watched the men load Reddington into the back of the suv, which had been converted into a makeshift ambulance, the woman strode purposefully through the hallway. She stopped in front of the hall's camera and looked directly into the lens. She looked murderous as she racked a bullet into the chamber of her firearm before leaving through the same hole in the wall. 

The woman walked out into the night and the task force let out a collective gasp as they recognized the man standing beside the suv. 

Dembe nodded to the woman and they both climbed into the vehicle, their extraction team holding onto the sides as they peeled out of the prison.

Aram looked fretfully at the rest of the task force. “Mr. Reddington’s car was left at the prison. Wherever Dembe is, he’s with him, and the woman.”

The task force sat in stunned silence, staring at the frozen image of the woman on the screen.

Liz looked stricken, “Aram… What does this mean?”

“I think,” his voice shook as he said it, “I think Mr. Reddington might be alive.”


	2. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: "Someone Saved My Life Tonight" - Elton John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I do not own the Blacklist characters, I'm just borrowing them for my own enjoyment.
> 
> If you would like to see the inspiration behind the safe house in this chapter, please follow the link below! 
> 
> https://www.seguinmaine.com/souhegan-treehouses-georgetown-maine

Reddington woke to an odd, repetitive beeping sound. He wished it would stop, his head was heavy and positively aching.

It occurred to Red that he very well might be dead. Though, he couldn’t say he really _felt _like an opium pipe… He couldn’t remember much from the execution other than the faces of Lizzie and Dembe watching helplessly from the observation room. The look in Lizzie’s eyes had been torture. Dembe had at least maintained his usual stoic demeanor. It would have been even more miserable if they had both been looking at him with that same helpless gaze.__

__Red lay there, trying to piece together the execution. The executioner had come to fetch him, with orderlies and guards in tow. They had walked him down a long hallway and into the execution room. The orderlies had strapped him into the bed… _‘Then what happened?’ _he thought to himself, brow furrowing. Images slowly, fuzzily appeared in his mind. The executioner reading the order of events from a pamphlet, the orderlies setting up his IV’s, and the executioner asking Red if he had any last words.___ _

_____ _

__

Then he recalled the blonde nurse with the tray of drugs. Normally, Reddington would have gone out of his way to be charming and flirt with such a woman. She had looked like a fox in her scrubs and her eyes… Red had been caught off guard by her eyes. He vaguely recalled besottedly mentioning that his wife’s eyes had been a similar color.

A pang of disappointment hit his stomach as he thought of his wife, he had been looking forward to the possibility of seeing her again. Yet Red had never really believed in the existence of an afterlife. Even if there was one, he doubted his criminal record would permit him entry. He nearly chuckled, though, as he considered his wife’s criminal record. Really, she had as bad a rap sheet as he did; which she readily reminded him of whenever he called himself a monster. His mouth twitched into a smile at the memory, _“Honestly Raymond, we’re both going to hell, the handbasket is a two-seater, and drinks are served at 3:00.”_

____

____

Behind his eyelids, Red could sense the pink and gold rays of sunshine creeping through some kind of window in front of him. It was early morning, he deduced, still not opening his eyes. He had died once or twice before, and this scenario did not conform to his previous glimpses into the beyond. Red twitched his fingers and toes, testing to see if he could still feel anything. He was surprised to find his limbs were fully intact and functional.

The twitching, however, seemed to cause a bit of a commotion. Red heard a voice on his left gasp, then the scraping of a chair, footsteps, and a door closing. The breeze that drifted to him from the door carried the scent of wet earth and something vaguely familiar, but Red couldn’t quite place it. _‘Where the hell am I?’ _Realizing he now had a finite window to assess his situation, Red opened his eyes.__

____

____

The bright morning sun made it difficult to see at first. His hand came heavily up to shield his eyes as they adjusted to the change. A bedroom emerged from the blinding light as he blearily looked around. The room was a clean white shiplap with dark beams running along the ceiling. The king size bed he was in was soft and warm. He was covered by a bedsheet and a white cotton blanket, but the muted beige comforter was folded neatly at the foot of the bed. 

The sun was glaring through three floor to ceiling panels of center-pivot windows. A few of the panes had been tilted outward to tempt in a light breeze which gently rustled the curtains. Red noticed the newly vacated wooden chair next to the bed held a tattered copy of _The Odyssey _.__

____

____

The infernal beeping was coming from a heart monitor perched on one of the bed’s nightstands. Red was definitely alive then. If he was dead there would be no need for its incessant noise. He briefly considered removing the cords from his body, but the sound of another door closing below him made him stop. Pairs of heavy footsteps climbed the wooden spiral staircase on Reddington’s right. From the opening in the floor emerged Dembe, followed by two medical personnel dressed in scrubs.

“Dembe,” he rasped, reaching a hand out to the young man who immediately took it and gave it a squeeze.

Dembe beamed at him, “It’s good to see you well, Raymond.”

Red slowly sat up, “I can’t deny I’m baffled as to how I got here,” he chuckled, looking around the room again. “This is the kind of place she would have come up with.” he murmured softly.

Dembe avoided Red’s eyes and instead stared expectantly at the lead physician.

“Mr. Reddington, welcome back! We’re happy to see you’ve made a full recovery.”

Red raised an eyebrow at the man, “I don’t mean to be ungrateful but… what happened? My memory is incredibly fuzzy and frankly, I feel like I’ve been run over by the entire Naval marching band.”

The doctors deferred to Dembe. “We put a nurse on the inside, Raymond.” he said carefully.

Red looked surprisedly at him, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dembe’s face was apologetic. “We couldn’t risk anyone finding out what we were up to. Swapping out a nurse on a high-profile execution like yours took a great deal of stealth. If someone had breathed even a word of our plan, we would have lost you.”

“What did this nurse do?” Raymond asked, brows furrowed.

The lead physician responded, “She swapped the medication to one which would temporarily stop your heart. Then, once your team created a diversion, she administered counteracting injections so we could extract you and restart your heart.”

Red nodded, “And how long was I out?”

“Less than five minutes, but it’s been two days since the execution. Your vitals are good, your heartbeat is strong, and you’re cleared for all non-strenuous activity.”

A cheeky grin appeared on Reddington’s face. “Excellent, I’m sure I’ll get to take long, aimless walks to celebrate my new lease on life.”

The other physician chuckled, “Yes, Mr. Reddington, you will need to get up and walk a few times a day. It’s necessary for you to heal. Should you have any issues, we will be in a cabin a mile down the road.”

“Thank you, both of you.” Reddington shook hands with both physicians before they excused themselves to head back down the stairs and out of the cabin. Red could hear them murmuring as they walked away from the building.

Red turned immediately to Dembe, “Dembe, where on God’s green earth are we?”

“An island off of Georgetown, Maine.” he said calmly.

“We’ve been here for two days, that’s too long to be in one spot, especially with the FBI and the CIA and all the other acronyms chasing after me.”

Dembe shook his head, “The island is roughly 20 miles from the nearest town, and only accessible by boat or seaplane. It is quite safe.”

Reddington nodded stiffly, “Who does this place belong to? He asked, feeling that he already knew the answer.

“The whole island is run as part of the Citadel’s blacksite network.” Dembe told him plainly.

Red looked around the room again, “So this was one of her sites… I take it the task force found the new Citadel then?”

Demb shifted uncomfortably in the chair, “No, the Citadel found me.”

Red’s eyebrows raised at this, “I set the task force on the man’s trail and you swoop in and do business with him?” He looked at Dembe with a hint of amusement, “That sounds like something I would do.”

Dembe gave him a wry smile, “It was our only option Raymond.”

“I don’t doubt it, and I certainly don’t hold it against you. It seems I owe you my life yet again, Dembe.”

“You owe me nothing, my friend, I would do it all again to keep you from such a fate.

A heavy silence hung about the room, regularly interrupted by the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

“Can’t we shut this damn thing off?” Raymond grumbled. Dembe stood, laughing, and flipped the switch.

“So what did the Citadel want in exchange for putting us up in one of his deepest hidey-holes?”

Dembe hesitated, “A meeting with you.”

“That can’t be all.” Raymond scoffed.

Dembe shrugged, “That was the only stipulation the Citadel had.” He could tell Raymond was suspicious about the whole arrangement. “All will be revealed in a few short hours,” he placated, “Please trust me Raymond.”

Red stared intently at Dembe, reading his features. Dembe would tell him if they were in any danger, and he certainly would have checked the Citadel’s motives before hopping into bed with him. He could trust Dembe. He would always trust Dembe.

A smile broke across Raymond’s face, “Alright Dembe, I trust you.” he added, “Are we going to celebrate my miraculous recovery?”

Dembe’s face lit up at this, “What did you have in mind?”

A humm escaped Reddington’s throat as he considered what he wanted. “What I wouldn’t give for some beluga caviar and that Russian Plov you made back in Greece. Ooh, and that one honey cake, _medovik _, I think it was called. Nearly dying once again has me absolutely famished.”__

____

____

Dembe nodded with an amused smile on his face. “I’ll see what I can do. For now, you need to rest.”

Red had showered and gone back to sleep shortly after Dembe had left. The man returned at dusk to move Raymond to a new cabin deeper in the woods. Donning the fresh set of clothes that had been left out for him, Red vaguely wondered where the rest of his personal effects were.

“Remind me why we are doing this again?” he asked, carefully making his way down the spiral staircase and out of the cabin.

“The main cabin is deeper in the woods and has more room. You will be able to move more freely there. It is important for you to get outside and to walk around while you recover.”

Red understood what Dembe meant as the vehicle trundled up the dirt road into a much more dense forest area. The canopy of trees high above them would block anything on the ground from sight.

They pulled up to a pair of treehouse cabins 10-20 feet off the ground. A ramp lead from the gravel parking area up to the first cabin, a two-floor structure exactly like the one they had just been in. A small plank bridge connected the main cabin and another single level cabin with a quaint patio attached. The last plank bridge lead to a smaller platform on which sat a cozy little wood-fired hot tub.

When Red hung his coat and hat in the kitchen of the main cabin, he smelled the wonderfully familiar scent of Russian Plov on the stove. He positively roared with laughter, “Oh, Dembe, bless you my good man.” 

Dembe smiled nervously in response.

Red cocked his head to the side, “What is it, Dembe?”

“I think it is time for you and the Citadel to meet.”

Raymond’s mouth pursed has he considered him for a moment, “It can’t wait?” he asked, “There’s plov.”

Dembe’s face showed an inordinate amount of anxiety. “Trust me Raymond. You don’t want to wait.”

A trickle of doubt dropped into Red’s stomach. Dembe was keeping something from him, something important. His face was honest though, as he stared at Raymond. Red’s eyes met his, “Okay. Let’s meet this Citadel.”

Popping the lid back on the heavenly smelling dish, Red followed Dembe out onto the deck. Night had almost completely fallen. The few remaining golden spindles of sunlight came dazzling through the treetops as Dembe lead them across the first plank bridge to the smaller cabin.

Reddington could now see that the cabin held a comfortable sitting room which faced a wall of center-pivot windows. The wall sconces bathed the room in a warm light which fell on the figure of a woman. She was seated in an armchair facing away from the door.

“That’s the Citadel?” Red asked, his throat inexplicably dry.

Dembe moved to stand guard next to the door. He took a deep, steadying breath and reached out to grasp Red’s shoulder. “Trust me, Raymond.”

He looked at the young man once more, eyes filled with confusion and concern. Then, he turned the doorknob and stepped into the room.

Raymond's heart thrummed in hopeful recognition. The way her hair fell on her shoulders, the way she occupied her chair, the straight, delicate line of her shoulders. Everything about her seemed familiar, as if he had spent decades memorizing her.

His footsteps were slow and halting as he moved further into the room. He came level with her side, and she looked up to meet his gaze.

Her eyes. His mind went hurtling back twenty years when he saw her eyes.

“...Rosalie?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: A Promising Asset - August 1998
> 
> All of the exits were blocked. She jumped slightly as she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. She looked up into the solemn face of the younger man as he spoke in a deep, West African accent. 
> 
> “Hello Ms. Alder, Raymond Reddington sends his regards.”


	3. A Promising Asset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: "No Roots" by Alice Merton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, yes, that is Luli Zeng working as Rosalie's accountant, all will be explained!

_21 years earlier, August, 1998. ___

__It was a gorgeous summers day in the Miraflores area of Madrid. The town sat peacefully among the trees, a gentle breeze bringing the scent of bluebell flowers into every home. The majority of the heavenly scent was coming from an unsuspecting villa on the corner of town. Like many of the properties in the area, the villa was built out of stone, with a lovely red terracotta roof. The fenced-in courtyard held little gardens of boxwood and spanish bluebell as well as a walkway framed by Italian cypress trees. There was nothing suspicious or odd about the place, and that was exactly how it was supposed to be; because the villa’s occupants were out of the ordinary, and highly suspect._ _

__One of these occupants was Raymond Reddington, The Concierge of Crime, who was enjoying a cigar on the patio extending from the villa’s lavish lounge. Smoke curled around him as he scanned the peaceful horizon. The town was currently reeling in a scandal of his own creation, as a variety of valuable banknotes had gone missing that very morning. They would soon be used to further fund his criminal empire. But first, Reddington wanted to know how he could get his hands on one of these villas._ _

__He called into the lounge, “I must say, Howard, you’ve outdone yourself on the location this time. What foreign secretary’s secretary did you have to bribe to get this place?”_ _

__Howard Hargrave, Reddington’s accomplice in the heist, laughed as he poured two fingers of scotch into a heavy crystal glass. “I’ll have you know I neither bribed nor blackmailed, thank you very much. I’ve been trying out a new proprietor for safehouses while abroad. She’s turning out to be an invaluable asset.”_ _

__He joined Reddington on the patio, “She’s reliable, discreet, and unbelievably thorough. Any safehouse in her network can be equipped, at any moment, to your exact specifications. From groceries to ammunition to safe passage out of the country, should you need it…”_ _

__Reddington peered curiously at his companion, “Well, are you going to divulge your new mistress of the house or are you keeping her to yourself? Mind, I don’t see Scottie as the sharing type.”_ _

__Howard snorted dryly, “Scottie dislikes her. Aside from being young and good looking, the girl is like you, viciously intelligent and irritatingly confident.”_ _

__“Traits which are bound to incur Scottie’s ire, I’m sure,” Red smirked knowingly._ _

__Howard shrugged his shoulders, “In truth, I think she could be more valuable to your network than my own. I believe you would work well together. It would bolster her business and take some of the burden off of yours.”_ _

__Reddington met his eyes with a wry smile, “If I didn’t know any better, Howard, I would accuse you of trying to set me up on a blind date. Not unlike that time in Bratislava with the Italian girl who insisted we were in Belarus.”_ _

__Howard roared with laughter at this, “by God, she was beautiful though, the waist on her…” he shook his head, getting lost in the memory for a moment as he finished his drink.  
He looked seriously at Reddington, “This woman, she has the potential to change the landscape for criminals moving throughout the world. It would behoove all of us to keep her considerable talents away from the likes of drug lords and terrorists.”_ _

__Reddington nodded thoughtfully, staring into his glass. “Well, Howard, I’ll reach out to her, see if we can’t strike a deal. I can’t deny having a more comprehensive network of safe houses would make conducting my business much easier.”_ _

__Howard popped a cigar in his mouth and started lighting it, “Excellent.”_ _

__”You should find her in Argentina. She was flying there this week to complete an acquisition for a new safehouse in Patagonia under the alias _Renata Alder _. I know her as Rosalie.”___ _

____***************************************************************************************************  
Back in his room that night, Reddington made a call to one of his associates._ _ _ _

____“Kate, I have a task for you…”  
***************************************************************************************************_ _ _ _

____Grinning, Renata Alder tore down the dirt roads west of Bariloche in a Mercedes G500 Cabrio. The top was open and her blonde hair fanned out behind her as she put the vehicle through its paces. Whipping around a hairpin turn and tearing up the drive, she found the place she was looking for._ _ _ _

____A flimsy ‘For Sale’ sign hung on a dilapidated fencepost, marking the entrance to an overgrown property. Renata threw the car in park and stepped out onto the road, her black boots crunching against the pebbled drive. After climbing the rusty cattle fence that blocked the path, and grumbling at the rust that coated her hands, she finally reached the clearing. A man in a four-runner trundled toward her, flashing a set of brilliantly white teeth. Renata pursed her lips in annoyance. Real estate agents were a necessary evil in her line of work, but that didn’t make them any less tiresome. Switching off the engine, the man climbed off the vehicle and extended a hand to her._ _ _ _

____The realtor walked the clearing with her, gesturing emphatically at the views and the property borders in the distance as he rambled on in rapid Castellano. The property was in truth magnificent, and tucked far enough from the main roads to be a viable blacksite for her network. As she was running the numbers for building a safehouse on the lot, Renata’s satellite phone rang._ _ _ _

____Her accountant’s voice echoed through the connection, “The funds are ready to move, but you’ve gotta get out of there.”_ _ _ _

____Renata frowned, “I’m about to close the deal, what’s the rush, Lu?”_ _ _ _

____“The rush is that some big shot dispatched his cleaner to your location.”_ _ _ _

____“What the hell?” said Renata, flagging down the realtor to get the paperwork started. She signed her name on page after page of documents as Luli explained what intel she had mistakenly come across._ _ _ _

____“If he is sending his cleaner ahead of him…” she said seriously,_ _ _ _

____“I doubt it’s a social call.” Renata agreed._ _ _ _

____“What did you do?” Luli asked accusingly._ _ _ _

____“I haven’t the foggiest idea whose wrath I’ve incurred this time.”_ _ _ _

____”I don’t know who this guy is but I don’t recommend waiting to find out,”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, I’m on it, wire the funds to complete the purchase, I’m heading to the nearest airstrip.” She snapped the phone shut and shook hands with the realtor once again before heading for the car._ _ _ _

____Mr. Kaplan was following Raymond’s lead on the innkeeper’s location when a grey suv with no top came hurtling past her down the hillside. She only caught a brief glimpse of the driver, a head of curly blonde hair and dark sunglasses. Kate pursed her lips as she realized the woman matched the description of the innkeeper she was looking for. Turning the car with a sigh, she started heading back down the hillside._ _ _ _

____Renata watched as the black sedan turned around and pursued her. She smirked and punched the accelerator, shifting like mad. The little suv tore through Bariloche, conveniently ignored by local police, and headed toward a private airport._ _ _ _

____Ditching her ride in a hangar, Renata hoisted her backpack out of the trunk and jogged to the nearest plane. She conversed with the pilot in fluent Castellano and coaxed him into taking her over the border into Chile. From there, she could arrange better transport. After a little bribery he agreed and kicked the little two-prop plane into life.  
As the plane left the ground, Renata giggled to herself. Far below, the black car pulled into the airstrip and a petite woman with dark hair stepped out to stare at the plane. _ _ _ _

____Kate called Raymond, “Your innkeeper is going to be a little difficult to catch,” she told him._ _ _ _

_____He laughed, already intrigued. “Excellent, I _love _hide and seek.”  
**************************************************************************************************  
_3 weeks later _______ _

________Reddington had to admit, he was impressed that she had evaded him this long._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Normally, having to chase down a potential ally would put Raymond into a towering temper. However, as the weeks carried on and Howard’s innkeeper remained elusive, Red found himself looking forward to their little game of cat and mouse. Each day he would receive word from his associates regarding what countries they had chased her across, and each day he would listen with poorly disguised amusement at how she had outwitted them all._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________As enjoyable as their game had been, however, he felt it was time for the two of them to meet. He and his team had quietly entered Brazil the night before, setting up operations in the hotel across from her intended location. Finally, they had gotten a step ahead of her, and as word reached Red that the woman had just landed outside of São Paulo, he smiled to himself. Now, they need only wait for her to arrive._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________An hour later, a black town car pulled up to the high rise as Reddington’s team waited patiently. Their target emerged from the vehicle wearing a grey skirt, white silk blouse, and a sun hat. A pair of dark tortoise sunglasses covered her eyes as she nodded to the bellhop and headed inside. Once the lookouts in the lobby confirmed she was in the elevator, they made their way to the building._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Renata had just stepped off of the elevator when she ran into the bellhop who was bringing her bags. “You’ve been made.” He whispered, pushing a bug-out bag into her hands. She sighed irritably and passed the young man a crisp $100 before heading for the emergency exit._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________She had intended to stay in South America long enough to finish her dealings in Argentina, but it now seemed that this mystery player wasn’t going to leave her be. This time, she would head to a blacksite where she could at least lay low for a few days. Bag hoisted on her back, she hurried down the stairs until she heard footsteps moving up several flights below._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Lips pursed, she opened the door to the nearest floor and headed for the service elevator. Slamming her finger on the button, she waited impatiently for the doors to open. With an out of tune _ding _the elevator arrived and Renata jumped in, repeatedly pressing the ‘door close’ and ‘basement’ buttons until she was safely on the move.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Not trusting the security of the basement entrances, Renata tucked herself into the corner next to the door so she would be out of sight when it opened._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________As the elevator settled on the bottom floor with another jarring _ding _, the door opened to a deafening silence. Renata waited patiently. She could see the faintest shadow being cast on the back wall of the elevator. A moment later a very large man with a dark beard and ponytail walked cautiously into the space, pointing his firearm ahead of him. Renata swung her leg and kicked the man’s outstretched arm with all her might, sending the gun flying. Grabbing his belt and shoving him head first into the corner of the elevator, Renata then slammed all of the buttons on the top of the control panel.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Giving the man a sardonic little wave, she took off through the basement garage to the tune of the elevator dinging several floors above._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Bursting out of the exit, Renata sprinted through the back alley. Her strappy sandals weren’t ideal running shoes, but they would have to do for now. Before she could go any further, however, a black sedan whipped into the mouth of the alley._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Renata turned to cut through the neighboring building, but was intercepted. A tall, young black man appeared, blocking her path._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Turning to try another route, Renata saw the woman she had left at the airport in Argentina, and in the distance, the man she had kicked earlier._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________All of the exits were blocked. She jumped slightly as she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. She looked up into the solemn face of the younger man as he spoke in a deep, West African accent._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Hello Ms. Alder, Raymond Reddington sends his regards.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: The Concierge of Crime
> 
> Red continued in a purr, “You know...I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman threaten my life while perched in my lap. It’s quite intoxicating. Were I a lesser man, you’d have me stammering like a hormonal teenager asking someone to prom.”
> 
> “And just think, if you had chosen the sofa, I’d be straddling you right now." She teased
> 
> Reddington sighed in mock disappointment, “Well, it’s still early. If negotiations go sour, we may very well have to kiss and makeup on the sofa.” He flirted, waggling his eyebrows.


	4. The Concierge of Crime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: "Love of the Game" by Welshly Arms

_August 1998_

 

Weighing her admittedly few options, Renata contemplated throwing a punch at the man squeezing her shoulder. He was bald, a few years younger than her, but he was very muscular and Renata doubted she would be able to fight him off, especially when he had backup waiting.

Realizing she had no other choice, Renata relented and went quietly with the man toward the sedan. He guided her gently but deliberately into the backseat before sliding in next to her. The woman from Argentina sat in the front seat while the ponytail joined them in the back, effectively sandwiching Renata between the two huge men. The interior of the vehicle was plush and luxurious, the soft leather of the seats harmonizing well with the warm wood accents. Whomever had captured her obviously had excellent taste. The dark haired woman nodded to the driver who immediately started the car and took a short turn around the block. Renata looked confusedly toward her condo building as they exited the vehicle. However, instead of going into the high rise, the associates led her into the equally lavish hotel across the street.

After a quick elevator ride up to the penthouse, Renata found herself handcuffed to an armchair in the lounge. The room was beautifully furnished with rich mahogany furniture and plush oriental carpets. If the man was going to kill her, Renata supposed it wasn’t a terrible place to die. It was certainly better than the alley she had been chased into. Yet Renata had the distinct feeling that if this mystery player had wanted her dead, he would have one of his associates take care of it outside.

 _’Less messy.’_ she thought.

Instead, there she sat, waiting for her captor to appear.

************************************************************************************

Upon hearing of his team’s successful capture of Renata Alder, Reddington headed to the lounge where Dembe stood sentinel outside. “No problems, I trust?” he asked, looking his associate over for any sign of injury. Red still wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of Dembe working for him. He had taken great lengths to secure an education and a life for Dembe, far from the horrors of the boy’s past. However, the young man had insisted on coming to work with Raymond once he finished his schooling.

Dembe’s eyes were the only thing that gave away his amusement. “This one is very clever. She came quietly once we cornered her, but I still recommend staying out of arm’s reach.”

Raymond chuckled to himself as he opened the doors and strode into the lounge.  
When the young woman’s head lifted at his entrance, Reddington understood why Scottie Hargrave would feel threatened by her. She was truthfully, very pretty. Her eyes were a deep turbulent grey with just a flicker of mischief behind them. Her characteristic blonde locks were tied back into a loose French braid and a few tendrils had fallen loose to gently frame her face. Her skin was sun-kissed from her time in South America, and a delightful little smattering of freckles showed on her face and chest.

“Ms. Alder! We haven’t met yet, but you, my dear, have been quite a difficult catch. I’m Raymond Reddington.”

If she was disconcerted about being handcuffed to an armchair, she didn’t show it. In fact, she looked perfectly confident and comfortable, perched in the seat as though it were a throne.

Raymond liked her already.

“Well Mr. Reddington, I’d be of no use to anyone if I couldn’t outrun another fugitive.” Renata supplied with an air of innocence, eyeing him warily.

Reddington did not look like an average criminal. He wore an impeccable suit and occupied the space with an air of studied nonchalance that intrigued Renata. No tattoos marred the skin visible at the top of his shirt nor where his sleeves were rolled up. In reality, he was the type of criminal Renata would normally do business with. As she examined him, he simply peered at her with an expression of polite curiosity.

 _ _“__ I don’t deny you’re exceptional at your craft, Ms. Alder. You’ve evaded me for nearly a month without so much as stepping _foot_ off this continent.” He added, “Had you left South America, I don’t doubt you’d be more elusive than a spare bedroom at a house party.”

Renata’s mouth gave an almost imperceptible twitch. The man’s undoubtable charm and brazen confidence amused her.

Reddington poured himself a drink from the bar cart and tilted his head expectantly, “Why did you run?”

Renata shifted her features into one of polite surprise, “An associate informed me that your fixer had been sent after me… I’ve been a criminal long enough to know that sending one’s cleaner ahead to a destination tends to be the proverbial shot over the bow before a nasty altercation.”

The man shook his head and laughed, “Well, I can’t say that you are wrong there.” He smirked as he took the armchair across from her. “I’m terribly sorry, this has been a rather magnificent misunderstanding. I have no intentions of killing you my dear; I’m here to do business.”

Renata’s head tilted in ill-disguised incredulity, “Then why am I cuffed to a chair?”

“You have a propensity for bolting.” Reddington quipped, staring her down.

“ _You_ have a propensity for sending the wrong message.” she countered with a soft smile.

Reddington looked bemusedly at the woman. She wasn’t what he had expected. To have outrun some of his best associates for nearly a month took a certain level of cut-throat intellect. Yet the woman occupying the chair had a distinct warmth and gentility to her that he had not expected.

Making his decision, he called to the outside guard. "Dembe,"

Renata recognized the young black man who had cornered her in the alley minutes earlier. He reached forward and began removing the handcuffs securing her to the armchair. She looked ruefully at the red marks on her wrists, rubbing them gently to ease the ache. Reddington felt suddenly abashed for imprisoning her in a chair. Normally he tried to be more of a gentleman where women were concerned.

Red utilized the distraction to change the subject, “I love an alias with a good backstory...” He nodded to her, “ ’Renata’ for example, meaning reborn, and ‘Alder’ is considered the goddess tree in Celtic traditions. I’m curious, why did you choose the name?”

The woman became suspicious at this request. “I took the name when I first became a criminal.”

Reddington shook his head slyly, “No, you didn’t. You took a different name when you set up a trust for your ailing mother and laundered the rest of your family’s fortune through a sea of fake non-profits. Renata Alder only became active last year, and she has only ever been seen in South America. Rosalie Øllegaard, however, has been a little globe-trotting real estate mogul these past three years.”

The careful gentility of Renata Alder was quickly drained from the woman’s countenance, and the cool, calculating persona of Rosalie Øllegaard appeared to take the reins. Someone had betrayed her name to this man, and she was going to damn well find out who that was.

Reddington, on the other hand, was enthralled with the change in the woman’s demeanor. _Now_ he could see a hint of the personality underneath. _This_ was the woman they had chased for weeks.

As Dembe stepped back and headed toward the door, Rosalie slipped a switchblade from the sleeve of her blouse. Quick as a flash, she was perched on Reddington’s knee. The tip of the blade pointed deftly against his throat.

The man chuckled darkly as he met her eyes. Finally, he spotted the spark of the criminal in their depths. “ _There you are._ ” he purred.

Rosalie smiled benignly at him, “Uh-uh-uh,” she tutted at Dembe, who had made a move towards them. “Your boss and I have a little business to discuss first.”

Reddington’s voice was impossibly low as he turned carefully toward his associate. “It’s alright, Dembe. Ms. Øllegaard is just establishing our ground rules.” Reddington’s hand waved carelessly, “I handcuffed her to a chair, it’s only fair that she takes a moment to threaten my well-being and various body parts should I do it again, which I won’t.” He turned pleasantly back to her, "Unless she asks nicely.”

Dembe reluctantly stepped back to stand by the door, watching the woman carefully as she turned imperious eyebrows back to her now-hostage.

Reddington continued in a purr, “You know, I don’t think I’ve _ever_ been threatened by a woman as she sat in my lap. It’s quite intoxicating. Were I a lesser man, you’d have me stammering like a hormonal teenager asking someone to prom.”

“And just think, if you had chosen the sofa I’d be straddling you right now.” she teased.

Reddington sighed and looked at the piece of furniture with mock disappointment. “Well, it’s still early. If negotiations go sour, we may have to kiss and make up on the sofa.” He flirted, waggling his eyebrows and placing his large hand on her knee.

Rosalie swatted the hand playfully with the flat side of her blade, but the man responded by nabbing it from her and tossing it to the floor. He turned triumphantly only to see her wielding yet another one.

Reddington shook his head and took a sip of his scotch, “I’m curious how many weapons my men failed to confiscate from you.” He groused, throwing a sidelong glance at his bodyguard, who looked sheepish.

“Too many.” Rosalie said, her tone chiding, “I could have been an assassin, you know.”

He scolded her right back, “Instead, you’re a very ill-behaved inn keeper.”

“Says the kidnapper who…” she faltered, “Honestly, I don’t even know who you are.”

“I’m not as unknown as you might think.” He intimated, an eyebrow flitting towards his hairline.

Rosalie carefully avoided rolling her eyes at this display of the male ego.

A pristine straw fedora caught her eye from its place on the nearby writing desk, making her eyes narrow at the man whose lap she was in. “In Paraguay I heard a rumor…” her eyes scanned his carefully, “they spoke of the man in the hat.”

Reddington’s eyes followed hers to the fedora in question. “See? Not as unknown as you thought.”

The vibrant blonde in his lap suddenly burst into peals of laughter. “ _You’re_ the one Robbie Vesco left penniless in a whore house?”

Reddington’s mouth gaped with open incredulity, _‘Robbie’ Vesco my ass_ , he thought. _That swindling jackass_. He was not yet over this particular transgression.

Rosalie’s eyes were dancing with suppressed mirth, “Oh, don’t look so sullen.” She smirked, “The man’s a terrible cheat. Besides, I see you’ve recovered just fine.” Her switchblade left his pulse point long enough to gesture pointedly at the beautiful room they were in.

The man’s wounded vanity was partially soothed, and he opted to change the subject rather than open hostilities over his former mentor. Raymond leaned to place his glass on a nearby side table, invading the chortling woman’s space enough to derail her amusement. He cocked his head, allowing his eyes to bore into hers.

“Like any good criminal, my empire is highly diversified to suit my skill set and financial needs,” he drawled, “and as you so amusedly surmised, to insulate me from ‘terrible cheats’ like Robert.”

Rosalie schooled her expression into something more amenable, “You’re a criminal jack of all trades.”

Reddington’s head lilted back and forth, “I deal in the commodities of information, misinformation, people, and identities. The success of my business depends on my ability to manipulate those commodities to the benefit of myself and my clientele. I’m a merchant of both people and contraband, a broker, a contract killer. However, the lifeblood of my business is as a concierge of sorts. I provide a very specific service for criminals who have either gotten in too deep and need a way out, or are struggling to move freely throughout the world.”

The woman nodded in understanding, “You provide the necessary documentation to meet their needs.”

“As well as transport, introductions, the occasional facial reconstruction. I provide a variety of accoutrements.”

“I see, and what business would you be expecting from me, Mr. Reddington?” Rosalie asked pointedly.

“An acquaintance of mine has been partaking of your safe house network. I would like to utilize it for my day to day business, and, if you are willing, I would also like to forward my clientele to you. Most of them need safe harbor while I complete the necessary documentation for their new lives.”

Rosalie examined him for a moment before reaching up to close the switch blade and toss it onto the coffee table. Reddington watched avidly as she crossed one beautifully toned leg over the other, giving him a tantalizing peek at her upper thigh.

“Mr. Reddington, I’ve built a life and an empire that demands a certain level of craft and cleverness. I will not permit myself or my operation to be abused. If you want access to my network, there is a set of guidelines you must follow, understood?”

Reddington smiled genially, “I take it the foreplay is over? That’s a shame, I was looking forward to where you'd pull the next switch blade from. Please, dear, call me Raymond.”

“First things first, _Raymond_ ,” she intoned, ignoring his jab. “I have a variety of associates that are vital to the continuity of my business: maids, bell hops, room service, property managers… These people are not to be harmed or harassed in any way. They are employed for your comfort as well as your security. Your people saw evidence of their usefulness when they came to kidnap me.” Her thoughts flitted briefly back to the young bell hop.

Reddington nodded without argument.

“Secondly, I need at least 4 hours’ notice on your intended whereabouts so I can have a location ready. I will also require a list of the countries and cities you most often do business in, so that I can confirm I’m able to accommodate you.”

“What happens when I need lodgings in a location you don’t have access to?”

“At that point I will either purchase a property, or if there isn’t enough time, I will place my people at your disposal in a hotel penthouse.” Rosalie answered confidently.

Reddington nodded his approval and waved her on.

“Thirdly, I am not responsible for your safety and well being should you act impulsively. My network, when utilized appropriately, is impregnable. However, if you don’t take the necessary precautions when accessing your safe house, i.e. – making sure you haven’t been followed, that is your problem, not mine.”

Rosalie sighed irritably, “Lastly, no prostitutes in my homes. I’m in the business of safe houses, not brothels.”

This earned a throaty chuckle from Raymond.

“Well,” he said, his voice rumbling pleasantly against Rosalie’s skin. “I find your terms to be agreeable. I would like to sample the merchandise, however, before committing my entire operation to your network.”

An ambitious smile curled at the woman’s mouth, “Certainly, Raymond. What is your next destination?”

“Bulgaria.”

“Varna?” she asked, her smile widening.

Reddington found himself smirking back at her, “I take it you aren’t opposed?”

The young woman was positively brimming with confidence, “I have a lovely boutique property in Euxinograd that you will positively adore.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Reddington placed a hand on the small of the woman’s back and guided her up out of his lap. He pulled his firearm from the holster on the small of his back, snatching the abandoned switch blade from the coffee table.

The young woman held her hand out expectantly.

Reddington shook his head, gun still held firmly in his hand. “That’ll teach you to bring a knife to a gun fight.” he teased, still holding the blade close to his chest.

Rosalie leaned into his ear, “ _Who said I don’t have a gun_? ” she purred, snatching the switch blade out of his grip.

Her burning eyes convinced him that, yes, there was a firearm hidden somewhere in that damnable skirt.

She twirled the blade between her fingers as she swaggered from the room.

“I’ll see you in Bulgaria, Mr. Reddington.”

******************************************************************************************

Dembe led the woman from the lounge to the exit, providing her with the necessary contact information before escorting her outside.

Back in the lounge, Red leaned with his back against the door taking deep, steadying breaths.

Eight years in Raymond Reddington’s skin and he had never had such an encounter with another criminal. The woman’s tactics had been terrifying and yet incredibly arousing. He could still feel her tight little figure perched in his lap as she crossed those gorgeous legs. She had taken him by surprise in more ways than one.

Red shook his head and cleared his throat. He would have to talk with Dembe and Baz about checking every nook and cranny for switchblades…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: Dirty Rotten Plane Thief
> 
> The man chuckled dryly, "I know nothing about that, Raymond. I have no use for... Did you say South America?"
> 
> Reddington smirked, knowing the old buffer was lying through his teeth. 
> 
> "Yes, Florian. Brazil, to be precise. I thought you might be concerned as to the whereabouts of your Gulfstream."


	5. Dirty Rotten Plane Thief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: "Shame" by Elle King

_August, 1998 - São Paulo_

 

Rosalie didn’t breathe easily until she was safely in the confines of the condo.

Kicking off her sandals, she scurried to the bar and poured herself a few fingers of her favoured gin. As the liquid passed her lips, Rosalie allowed the slow burn to calm her nerves. She looked back on her activities in the penthouse across the street with a measure of fear and obstinate pride.

She had stood toe to toe with a major player in the criminal underworld and lived to tell the tale. The Man in the Hat, this Concierge of Crime, presented an unprecedented danger. He didn’t take pause or flinch in the slightest when she invaded his personal space and threatened his life. The only thing that seemed to put him on his heels was her telling him she was armed, and Rosalie had the distinct feeling he wasn’t concerned about her having the weapon so much as where she could have possibly hidden it.

‘ _Speaking of which…_ ‘

The woman reached between her legs and pulled the tab attached to her thigh. A black garter-style holster cascaded toward the ground with the small handgun in tow. Rosalie sighed her relief as she was freed from the straps around her leg. Placing the weapon on the coffee table, she turned to pour herself another drink, her mind still sprinting through the day’s events.

‘ _How the hell did he know my name?_ ’

The thought was unnerving. If he knew her name, who’s to say dozens of other criminals wouldn’t make the same connection?

Curling up in one of the club chairs, she attempted to quiet her unease and mentally organize. The 24-hour gap between now and Reddington’s intended arrival left her with two options. Rosalie could follow through with their deal, or she could fly out on the premise of getting the safe house prepared…then drop off the grid. She nixed that last thought almost immediately. Rosalie refused to go back on a business deal, it was a rude thing to do and would tarnish her reputation.

If the man was half as prominent as he indicated, working with him would provide Rosalie with the capital she needed to diversify. Unlike Reddington, the vast majority of Rosalie’s business was in her safe house network. If anything went wrong in that area, her empire could be damaged beyond repair. She had been hoping to carve out a greater avenue in the safe passage and bug-out markets. These would create enough diversity in her portfolio to weather the occasional storm while still remaining comfortably in her bailiwick.

A coded knock on the condo’s door drew her from her scheming. Rosalie’s shoulders tensed as she pulled her firearm from its neglected holster and tip-toed to the door.

Peeking through the peep-hole, she saw a familiar man with short dark hair and green eyes. Rosalie opened the door slowly, giving the young man’s bulky frame a quick once-over before letting him in.

His thin mouth twitched in silent indignation, as if to say, “… _Really_?” before nudging his way through the door. The newcomer took in his surroundings before turning back to Rosalie, speaking in a lilting French accent.

“The plane is ready for your departure, I am to stay with you until you board.”

The woman’s brow furrowed, “Now, how on earth did _he_ find me?”

“Brazil is the only country you have not been to in the last three weeks,” the man said idly, “it was very easy to see where you were headed.”

‘ _Damn_.’ Rosalie cursed her need to stay in South America long enough to finish her business dealings. She had inadvertently broadcast her intended location by not back-tracking.

“The plane, Mademoiselle,” he reminded her, “We must be going.”

“Cedric, how many times must I tell you to call me by my name?”

The young man simply lifted his eyebrows imperiously. Rosalie had the distinct feeling he had been sent solely to annoy her. The woman huffed before moving about the condo, packing the few things she had removed from her luggage. “Is he on the plane?” she asked, bringing her bags back to the door.

“ _Non_ ,” replied Cedric, taking her suitcase in hand, “He will call once you are airborne.”

The woman strode quickly back into the condo’s office and pulled a key from the door frame. Popping the key into a hidden lock on the bookshelves, she pushed and twisted. The shelf opened on a hinge, allowing her to reach into the compartment to grab a leather folio and another bug-out bag. After the afternoon's events, the condo was no longer a viable safe house. She would need to sell the place and acquire a new location in São Paulo. Rosalie stopped to dismantle one of the hallway vents, packing the last remnants of her hidden contraband in the bag.

Cedric had taken her suitcase down to the car, the coded knock signalling his return. He picked up the bug-out bag, slinging it over his shoulder before reaching for the leather folio.

Rosalie snatched it from his grasp and pulled it close to her chest, eyes narrowed peevishly. The folio contained the information pertaining to each of her safe houses, and she guarded the item quite viciously.

Cedric held up a placating hand, taking a step away from her. His tell-tale smirk belying his amusement at the exchange. He loved getting Rosalie’s hackles raised. “ _Chat de ‘la réve_.” He teased, reaching out to rumple her hair.

Rosalie grimaced, swatting his hand away. “You're a pest” she grumbled, heading for the door.

Cedric couldn’t contain his laughter as he followed her to the elevator. This was the summation of his and Rosalie's relationship. Hurling insults and occasionally shoving each other, which Rosalie was all too happy to do when they reached the lobby. Still grumbling, she nudged the large man who moved almost imperceptibly, still chuckling at her antics.

They bickered good-naturedly until they reached the front door, where they quickly and silently headed for Cedric’s vehicle.

********************************************************************************** 

Across the street in the penthouse, Reddington’s team was keeping a close eye on the young innkeeper. Dembe took the first watch, keeping close tabs on her as she moved around the condo. When the woman left her location with an unknown man in tow, Dembe quietly followed in Reddington’s town car.

The pair made their way to a private airstrip outside of the city, where they hurriedly boarded a Gulfstream jet. The blue and white bird turned quickly on the tarmac before hurtling up into the afternoon sun, engines roaring.

Dembe grabbed the aircraft’s tags, then stopped to bribe the destination and manifest off of air traffic control before returning to São Paulo.

Upon entering the penthouse, he found Raymond waiting for him. “So, where is the little minx headed?”

The young man held out the papers containing the flight path, manifest, and the jet’s tags. “I spoke to air traffic control. They confirmed she is en route to Bulgaria as we speak.”

Reddington’s head tilted in surprise upon seeing the tags listed for the jet. “You’re certain this is the plane that she boarded?”

Dembe’s replied in the affirmative, “I watched her board the plane myself.”

“Interesting,” Reddington scrutinized the documents carefully. “What would an innkeeper in South America have to do with a French mobster?”

“The jet, it is Florian’s is it not?” Dembe asked, “He wasn’t with her, nor was he on the manifest.”

Florian Gaspard Armel, the owner of the jet, was an old Corsican mob boss whom Red had done business with in the past. To Red’s knowledge, Florian had never done business in South America. Why his jet would be there was a complete mystery.

In the spirit of transparency, and to somewhat assuage his own curiosity, Red decided to call him.

“Florian!” Red chimed jovially upon him picking up, “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time?”

The old mobster’s booming voice came roaring through the connection. “Not at all my lad, not at all. To what do I owe this call?”

Reddington paced the lounge, hesitating, as he realized he was essentially ratting the young woman out. “...I’m dealing with an innkeeper that I picked up in South America. She seems to be flying to Bulgaria in your jet.”

Florian chuckled, “I know nothing about that, Raymond. I have no use for an… Did you say South America?”

Reddington smirked, knowing full well the old buffer was lying through his teeth. “Yes, Florian. Brazil to be precise. I thought you might be concerned as to the whereabouts of your Gulfstream.”

" _Merde_." The older man groused, perfectly unconcerned. "It looks like I will be making a trip to Bulgaria then, does it not?"

"Dembe can provide you with the necessary information. We will meet you there." Raymond handed the phone to the younger man, indicating he was going to go pack.

Heading for the master bedroom, Red took the few things he had unpacked and placed them neatly back into his suitcase. He was glad to hear the young innkeeper was already getting started on their agreement. However, her connection with Florian made him suspicious. The man wasn't the unsavoury type. Like Red, he had a deep-seated code of ethics when it came to being a criminal. There were certain lines Florian did not cross, and criminals who did cross those lines were never permitted to work with his people. Red could respect a man like that, perhaps that was why they continued doing business. And yet Red knew the man was lying when he asked about the woman on his plane.

If she had just purchased a ride on the jet, Florian would have said so outright.

If the pilot was shuttling passengers in the jet on the sly, Florian would have been absolutely furious.

The old mobster knew this woman, Red just didn't know how he knew her. Not yet, anyway. He assuaged his curiosity with the knowledge that the next day would provide the answers he sought.

A gentle knock sounded on the bedroom door. Dembe strode quietly into the room, returning the phone to his employer. "How long before we leave?" he asked tiredly.

Reddington gave him an understanding smile. "We could all use a little rest, we'll leave in the morning."

******************************************************************************************************* 

Aboard the Gulfstream, Rosalie sat curled up in her usual chair. Her small hand was wrapped around the satellite phone as she dialled the familiar number. She waited patiently while the phone rang on the other end, she had just pulled a crude face at Cedric when a deep, surly voice hit her ear.

“ _Ma fille_!”

Rosalie grinned, hearing the smile in the man’s voice. “ _Bon soir, mon pére_.”

Florian roared into the phone, “What is going on? I have not heard from you in weeks!”

Rosalie pulled the device from her ear ruefully while Cedric laughed at her. Florian was obviously upset with her for being off the grid for such an extended period. “Now, now, _vu gros ours_. It does no good to get your blood pressure up.”

The man scoffed at her teasing tone.

“Don’t say that, Marietta will hear you!” he hissed, “My daughter has been running all over the South American continent. It has been giving me a cornea.”

“ _Coronary_ ” she corrected. Rosalie could practically see Florian, in all of his criminal bravado, looking nervously around for his formidable wife. She couldn’t keep a small giggle from escaping at the thought.

“Oh, laugh all you want, _mon petit chat de ’la réve_. Marietta is on the warpath and you have made the top of her list.”

His attempt at a chastising tone only made her laugh more. The sound of Marietta’s voice calling in rapid French however, silenced that laughter at once.

Florian picked up on her faltering humour, “Ha! Not so blasé now are we?”

In the same breath, Rosalie heard him whisper “ _Merde_!” followed by the closing and locking of a heavy door. She knew from the sound, the man had taken refuge in his office.

Rosalie heaved a sigh, “ _Pére_ , everything is fine, just a minor mix-up.” Her tone was placating, but he didn’t buy it.

“Cedric said you left the condo this afternoon in a rush. What happened?”

Rosalie’s eyes narrowed at the perpetrator across from her. “You’re having me followed?”

Florian’s tone was completely unapologetic. “ _Non_ , I am in contact with your associates. You won’t let me give you a security detail. Therefore, I have to employ other ways of keeping you safe.”

The woman took note of the frustrated tone in his voice. In reality, Florian was right, she _should_ have a security detail. At this point in her career, Rosalie had already been in a fist fight, shot at multiple times, and now she could add being abducted to the list.

The Frenchman found her silence quite telling, his tone softening when he next spoke.

“I can have a team ready in moments, Rosalie.”

She hesitated, “ _Pére_ , I hate to ask it of you…” Rosalie always disliked asking the man for anything. He had already done so much for her.

Selecting a security detail was like picking family members. They would be with her night and day, protect her, keep her secrets, and lay down their lives if necessary. In the same vein, she would be responsible for their well-being, their livelihoods, and their families, should the worst come to pass. Her empire could float the cost, but it was the responsibility for those men that made Rosalie take pause. “I have no experience in selecting a detail… Could I ask your guidance?”

Florian breathed a heavy sigh of relief, “It is no trouble, I will send a folio of acceptable candidates to your location in the morning. Until then, keep Cedric with you. What country will you be in?”

Rosalie tittered, as if he didn’t already know.

However, the question brought the young woman back to the task at hand. “There is a business opportunity that is taking me to Bulgaria.”

“ _Non_? What is this opportunity? Is that why you were spyhopping all over South America?” The man’s teasing tone released the tension the woman had been holding onto.

She leisurely went through the events of the past three weeks and her fateful meeting with the man in the hat, leaving ample space for Florian to ask questions and roar with laughter at her antics.

The man’s laughter quieted as she relayed the details of her capture. His tone was gentle, flickering with both pride and concern. “Your network is working beautifully _mon trésor_ , but you need to find out how that man managed to know your location before you were there. That condo is burnt, you would do well to be rid of it and purchase another location in São Paulo.”

Rosalie’s head nodded in agreement. She knew after being unceremoniously taken from the location herself, she couldn’t have her clientele using it in good conscience. As for Reddington’s knowledge of her whereabouts, Rosalie was loathe to admit that was her own fault. She told Florian as much, that she had been unwilling to leave the continent due to a deal in play. After running throughout the continent, the only logical move she had left was to fly to São Paulo.

Florian’s deep chuckle resonated through the connection, “Ah, you are truly _ma fille_. I despise being interrupted mid-acquisition.” There was a beat of silence before he whispered conspiratorially, “How is the property in Patagonia?”

It was Rosalie’s turn to laugh merrily. She could just see Florian’s features turning to boyish delight as she relayed the specifics of her newest location. “It is magnificent.”

“I am sure it will be a splendid addition, the location is sublime. Now… what shall we do about this Concierge fellow, what is his name?”

“Raymond Reddington” she sighed, “I’ve been out of the social scene too long. I have no idea who he is.”

“Hmmm… that is alright, I know of him. We have done business with him on the shipping routes out of Corsica. Other than kidnapping you, I have not heard of any exploits outside of the usual racketeering, murder, etcetera. If Reddington was up to something more heinous than that, I would know.” Florian decided not to tell her the man had basically tattled on her. He was surprised and pleased at the loyalty Reddington had showed.

Any apprehension regarding the deal disappated almost instantly. She trusted the blustering Frenchman beyond all others. He would know if there was something unsavoury about the man, and she trusted him to always tell her what she needed to know. With her conscience settled, Rosalie proceeded to flip through the folio containing her properties.

“You know I would never let anything happen to you _mon trésor._ ” The man soothed through the connection.

Rosalie paused for a beat. “You’ll save me from Marietta, then?” she sniggered, knowing full well the fiery little Parisian owned Florian body and soul.

“I could deny her nothing, even if it means letting her tan your hide for not calling more often.”

The young woman snorted indelicately. “Yes, well, she will have to catch me first.”

“Do not underestimate her, Rosalie...I think my own men would turn on me with a snap of her fingers.”

The pair laughed heartily at the idea of wispy little Marietta absconding with Florian’s entire security detail on a whim.

In the silence that followed, Rosalie pieced together the issue that had been bothering her most. “ _Pére_ , he knew who I was. He knew my name was Rosalie, he knew about my mother…How did he find out about her?”

Florian didn’t sound overtly concerned. “He is a concierge, it is their job to know things. Did he threaten her?”

“No, but…” Rosalie sighed, “I can’t risk my mother finding out what I’ve become, Florian. It would hurt her. She wouldn’t understand. She doesn't know what I've been doing all this time.”

The old mobster nodded thoughtfully, the girl’s true concerns finally coming to light. Rosalie’s capture concerned her significantly less than the idea of what could happen to her mother should she be discovered. The girl’s purpose as a criminal was built upon caring for the woman and ensuring Rosalie the freedom to pursue the life she was meant to have.

The young spitfire had come to Florian under the most beguiling circumstances, and he had warmed to the little darling immediately. Rosalie was and would always be, a criminal by nature. Blessed with a keen intellect and a moral compass that points to _her_ true north as opposed to that of the law, this life was a natural progression for her. She belonged in Florian’s world, the edges of right and wrong, that is where she truly shone. The man understood her need to protect her mother. In truth, she and the woman were very close. Rosalie maintained the ruse of traveling for work, her mother believing that her daughter was an international real estate agent. In reality, the young woman had been learning how to be a criminal from Florian.

Now, three years later, Rosalie was poised to become an institution in the dark corners of their world. Her safe house network was growing steadily, and her abilities were garnering her a loyal and high-profile clientele. All without any input from Florian or his fellow Corsicans. The woman was building an empire in her own right.

If this Reddington knew of her last remaining family member, someone else could as well. The security around her mother would need to be increased, Florian decided. He would see to it personally, placing some of his own people in the retirement community in which she lived. It would do no good for Rosalie to be fretting about her mother’s security when she is dealing in high-stakes negotiations.

"You need to focus on your new client. I will take care of your mother, _ma fille_. I'll see to her security, and make sure that any ties to you are buried so deep, even Reddington won't find them."

A feeling of relief wrapped itself around Rosalie, knowing Florian would keep his word. He always did.

"And Cedric?" she asked dryly, trying to lighten the mood.

"What about Cedric?" Florian chuckled, his expression bemused.

"Where can I drop him off, I can't stand looking at his face anymore." She stuck her tongue out at the offending party, who had been casually flipping her the bird.

She could feel Florian's exasperation through the phone as he sighed. "The two of you are going to be the death of me.” He grumbled, "You are to keep Cedric with you until I say otherwise."

Rosalie's giggling filtered through the phone, making the older man smile warmly.

The woman sighed happily, “Well, _Pére_ , I will have to get busy if I’m going to have the Bulgarian property ready for occupation in 12 hours.”

“ _Bon chance, ma fille_.”

Rosalie ended the call and went to pour herself a drink. It was going to be a tense couple of hours before she would be able to sleep.

In order to have the Varna property prepared, Rosalie would need her associates to begin working without her. Whipping through the folio she had been looking at, she began to dial her contacts for Bulgaria. Conversing in stilted Bulgarian she laid out the plans for her newest client.

The young woman had racked her brain for things she noticed during her brief captivity in Redington‘s penthouse. The colour of the drapes, the decorations, the bottle of scotch that was on the bar cart, she slowly filtered through it all. Contacting her property manager she delegated the appropriate linens, foods, and various other accoutrements that she felt would suit her client's taste and expectations.

Two hours later, Rosalie had contacted her property manager, landscaper, maids, and a personal shopper. Over the next twelve hours they would be cleaning, sprucing, and readying the house. Florian even provided a few of his security to check the property for any vulnerabilities, bugs, or other problems. Feeling that the major aspects of the property were underway, Rosalie stood and stretched languidly. She smirked at Cedric, his large body lying prone on the sofa. She draped one of the soft blankets over him and kissed the top of his head. Even in his sleep he swatted grumpily at her. Rosalie tittered as she headed to the lavatory, hoping to freshen up before getting some much-needed sleep. 

***************************************************************************************************************

_12 hours later - Varna, Bulgaria_

Rosalie stepped off the plane feeling refreshed and ready to ackle the situation at hand. A dark SUV waited for them on their arrival. Rosalie hopped into the driver's seat, ignoring Cedric‘s mildly put-upon look as she took off towards the safe house.

"So," he said, breaking the silence, "What is the story with this new client of yours?"

Rosalie's lips pursed, "He's a big client, willing to bring lots of little clients with him, moves every two days..."

Cedric's Parisian drawl hitched slightly, " _Every two days?_ "

Rosalie nodded thoughtfully, "182 safe houses per year, _if_ he doesn't stay in the same place twice. I have my work cut out for me."

"Can your network even support that?" The man brought up a valid question.

"It will, once I've finished. I'll need to hire more property managers, but it's feasible."

Cedric shook his head, "Imagine if one gets the flu...What a nightmare."

Rosalie gawped at him, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline. "Thanks for that!”

"...What?"

"You know what! Killjoy." she laughed, throwing the map at him.

Cedric smirked as he caught the projectile, proceeding to toss it in the back seat.

"Prat." She teased.

"Brat." He countered.

Rosalie nibbled her bottom lip as they continued down the road.

"You don't know where you're going without the map... Do you, Rosalie?" Cedric's face held a sly grin as he watched her attempt to locate the next turn.

She groaned, passing street after street with no knowledge of where she needed to go. " _I_ _told Pére_ you were a nuisance."

The man snorted, retrieving the map from the rear seat. "Oh please, Florian knows you just like to complain."

"You're fired." She groused, snatching the map from his grasp.

Finally pulling into the gravel drive, Rosalie smiled softly up at the two-story home built into the hillside. The place was a fortress in its own right, as its illustrious history had shown. The house had been utilized as a halfway point for Russian operatives moving between the Motherland and Italy during World War II. The large pale rocks that made up the facade were completely bulletproof, but showed scuffs here and there from its previous occupation. The patio off of the second floor master overlooked the garden with its shimmering pool, the Black Sea winking off in the distance.

Rosalie found herself hoping the location would be to Reddington’s liking.

Their arrival at the home initiated a flurry of activity. Cedric moved the woman’s luggage into the guest house on the other side of the property while his charge busied herself with her associates. The maids came scurrying up to hug the young woman, patting her cheeks affectionately and chattering in Bulgarian. Rosalie beamed at the pair, enquiring about their health and their respective families as they lead her into the house.

The heavy oak floors positively gleamed in the morning light. Rosalie took a quick turn about the living room sighing her approval, “My dear friends, the place looks magnificent.”

The women smiled proudly and continued escorting their employer around the house. As each room opened to her, Rosalie remembered why she had chosen this home for her Bulgarian operations. The strong wooden beams, walls of solid stone, they gave an earthy, natural quality to the space that made her feel stable and grounded. The young woman’s nerves melted slowly as each space revealed itself.

Having found the property and grounds to her standards, Rosalie delegated a few last-minute tasks to the property manager before ushering her associates from the home amid promises of dinner and drinks later. They would be staying in the guest house as well, giving Rosalie ample opportunity to properly thank them for readying the space in her absence.

Striding quietly out onto the veranda, the woman peered at her watch. Her client would be arriving soon...

*********************************************************************************************

Reddington's jet landed late that afternoon, taxying to park alongside Florian’s Gulfstream.

They had made a minor detour to pickup a blustering Howard Hargrave, who would be acting as broker for the deal Reddington was hoping to make. The man was not yet aware that Raymond had located the innkeeper he had mentioned a few weeks ago. Nor did he know their base of operations for the next few days would be one of hers.

Howard halted for a moment outside the door, recognizing the jet beside them. "I'll be damned if that's not Florian's jet." he commented, shielding his eyes from the late afternoon sun and gazing at the bird.

"Ah, so it is!" called a booming voice. The imposing figure of Florian Armel appeared at the bottom of the staircase, peering up at Raymond and his entourage. Descending from the jet, the group found two black sedans waiting for them. The bosses engaged in perfunctory handshakes while their respective security simply nodded stoically at one another.

"Florian, I'm sure you remember Howard, he's brokering a sale for me while I am in Bulgaria."

The two men nodded and shook hands once more.

Howard winced apologetically, "On that note, I really should head down to the marina, Raymond. I will need to get my assessment started if you want to complete the deal in the next 48 hours."

Red smiled knowingly, "Certainly, the car is at your disposal. I should be there in a few hours."

Howard took his leave, making a beeline for the first sedan, his bodyguards following him.

Florian genially watched the man leave. "Well," he said, patting Reddington on the back, "It seems there is no time like the present. Let's go see this plane thief!" The old mobster chuckled knowingly and headed for the second vehicle.

Dembe exchanged an amused glance with Raymond before taking one of the front seats.

The comfortable sedan clipped along the highway as Red and Florian sat in companionable silence. Neither one wanted to broach the subject of Rosalie. Their stalemate did not last long though, as they arrived moment later at a magnificent stone property settled into the hillside. The blonde in question was stood on the front steps of the home, waiting to welcome her new client.

As the men exited the confines of the vehicle, Reddington heard the woman gasp in surprise.

He turned in time to see Rosalie Ølegaard throw herself into Florian's arms, kissing his cheeks and practically squealing, " _Mon Pére!_ "

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this chapter took forever, I ended up having to split it in two... I will be posting the other half tomorrow :)
> 
> Also, there are a few French phrases/terms of endearment in the next couple of chapters!  
> Pére = Dad/Daddy, Fille = daughter  
> vu gros ours = you big bear  
> mon petit chat de'la réve = my little hell cat


	6. The Mobster's Daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: You Worry Me - Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats
> 
>  
> 
> The safe house in this chapter is based loosely on the house below.
> 
> https://www.luxuryestate.com/p62031403-luxury-home-for-sale-varna

_August, 1998 - Varna, Bulgaria - Hillside Safe House_

Reddington gaped slightly at the pair. He was practically fluent in French, and the term of endearment that passed the young woman’s lips did not escape him. She had called Florian ‘Dad’, yet Reddington was quite certain the man did not have a daughter.

The old French mobster, with his rippling grey hair and towering build quite often terrorized average citizens and criminals alike. With Rosalie, however, he took on a persona more akin to a teddy bear. The little sprite of an innkeeper seemed to own him body and soul, even as he enveloped her in a massive hug that lifted her off her feet.

When she reached the ground again she looked sheepishly up at Red. “I’m terribly sorry, Raymond, where are my manners?” She reached forward, shaking his hand and brushing her cheek with his. “Welcome to Varna.”

Reddington’s bemused amusement was held in check as he looked meaningfully between the young woman and Florian.

“Rosalie was at one time my charge.” Florian explained, “Now, she is family. I hope you do not mind my slight subterfuge in obtaining her location. As I’m sure you’ve found out, she’s terribly elusive.”

Red watched as Rosalie beamed cheekily up at the man, completely unphased by his declaration.

The young woman looked to the safe house, calling the property manager to request their guests’ bags be taken inside. She turned back to Reddington, “Why don’t I give you a quick tour?”

As their luggage was brought in, Rosalie lead Red and Dembe on a tour of the home and property grounds. Red was rather impressed, truth told. The house was a pleasant mixture of classic and rustic design, the natural materials giving the place a soothing, earthy feel. The plush seating and perfectly poised record player inside the lounge was beckoning to Red, while Dembe had eyes only for the lap pool glistening in the garden.

Rosalie smiled softly at Reddington as she opened the heavy wooden doors to the master suite.

Red found himself unconsciously mirroring that smile. The woman was in her element, vibrant and glowing as she guided him into the inviting space. The walls were the same pale stone as the rest of the house. The furniture was a rich mahogany that paired beautifully with the soft cream-colored linen. Reddington was surprised to see the bed was made with soft cotton blankets. The oxblood comforter was folded neatly at the foot of the bed.

Rosalie caught his puzzled look. “I’m sorry, I despise comforters. I tend to leave them off until I learn a guest’s preferences. I can have it changed if you like?”

Red tilted his head curiously, “Not at all my dear, the bedding is perfectly fine.”

The young woman nodded, turning to open the large french doors leading to the balcony. Her guest followed her onto the outdoor space, smiling pleasantly at the magnificent view.

He turned to look at the young innkeeper, his hazel eyes boring into hers. She was wearing a robin’s egg blouse and a dark grey skirt that matched her eyes. The slate orbs held his gaze admirably.

“I unfortunately have business I need to attend to at the shipyard. The safe house is more than adequate, Rosalie. If you are amicable, I’d like you to begin planning for our next location.”

The woman dimpled at him, obviously pleased that he wished to continue their arrangement. “Certainly, where are you off to next?”

“New York,” he rumbled, placing his hands in his pockets. “I have an acquisition to secure from an art thief named ‘Mugs’ Kalinowski.”

Rosalie tittered at the name. “Upper or Lower Manhattan?”

The man’s head tilted back and forth, considering the option. “Lower. I prefer the wilds of SoHo and the Village over the fustian Upper West Side.”

The woman’s expression showed a flicker of surprise, but she nodded all the same. “The property will be ready in 24 hours.”

Dembe walked silently into the suite, indicating it was time to meet their counterparts at the docks.

Rosalie considered this her cue to make her exit. She gave the brooding bodyguard a small smile as she left.

Raymond chuckled exasperatedly as Dembe’s only response was to give the innkeeper a curt nod. Red donned his jacket and hat, then followed the young man out to the car.

“The safe house is a pleasant surprise,” Dembe commented idly as they sped South toward the marina.

“It is…” Reddington agreed, “Any news on our little shadow?”

In order to test Rosalie’s safe house network, Mr. Kaplan hired a notorious shutterbug aptly named  _The Seeker_. The man’s value was in his ability to find people that wish not to be found. Red had used him several times prior, and so had opted to leverage the man’s considerable talents to verify Rosalie’s network was, in fact, safe.

Raymond found Dembe’s eyes crinkling in amusement in the rear-view mirror. “The tail knows you’re near Varna, other than that, it has been a goose chase.”

The pair chuckled at the thought as Dembe pulled the vehicle up to the shipyard. Howard and the seller’s entourage waited patiently in the door of an abandoned warehouse, ready to do business.

************************************************************************************************************

Rosalie returned to the guest house, seeking out Florian.

She found the mobster happily exchanging stories with Cedric in the lounge, his voice ricocheting loudly off the stone walls. The man beamed at her when she entered.

The woman noted Cedric, exhausted, had propped his chin in his hand as he listened to the Frenchman bluster about a deal gone awry in Cairo. Taking pity on him, Rosalie patted his shoulder and suggested he get some rest before dinner.

Cedric eagerly took the opportunity to exit the conversation.

“And take a shower!” Rosalie called, feeling she needed to needle the young man once more.

Florian chuckled wryly at her suggestion, seeing a lone hand reaching back through the doorway with a crude gesture. She simply brushed off the retort and proceeded to make her and Florian a cup of tea.

“I didn’t expect to see you today,” she said honestly. Though she was always happy to see the man she considered a father, she needed to ensure he wouldn’t be turning up at every new business dealing. It would undermine her status with her clients.

The mobster sensed her concerns regarding the unexpected appearance. “I needed to ensure you were alright, knowing your propensity for downplaying problems. I also needed to give you this.” He pulled out a small black leather folio containing the candidates for her security detail.

Rosalie took the item gratefully, noting a few familiar faces as she flipped through its contents. Perhaps this wouldn’t be as difficult as she thought.

“I took the liberty of choosing the head of your detail. I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

The woman’s eyes snapped up to meet Florian’s crystal blue orbs. Rosalie found that she did mind. She minded quite a lot, _actually_. Her head of security would end up being her right hand, her closest confidant. She couldn’t believe Florian had just taken that decision from her.

Florian held up his hand, forcing the impending argument to die in the girl’s throat. The hand then turned and beckoned to someone in the hall.

A tall, imposing figure with jet black hair and beetle-black eyes stepped into the room. His posture held a relaxed grace laced with an almost palpable aura of ferocity. A neatly trimmed black beard framed the clear olive skin of his face. The man’s eyes crinkled in open amusement at his new charge.

The young woman’s expression changed comically from blatant irritation to surprised recognition and finally, to unbridled delight.

“ _Horace_ ” she breathed happily, leaping up and wrapping her arms around the massive man.

Florian chuckled at the pair, knowing he had chosen well. His Rosalie had become quite taken with Horace when she first entered Florian’s world. The man had been her first guard, and the pair had quickly become close friends.

Horace was an exceptional bodyguard. He was cool, calculating, and absolutely lethal. As much as it pained Florian to part with him, he knew the man was ready to head his own team. Horace was well-educated, intuitive, and an excellent traveler. He would excel as Rosalie’s right hand. The old mobster could sleep at night knowing the young man was looking out for his daughter. Especially now that she was in dealings with Reddington.

The woman in question was radiant as she scurried back to Florian. “ _Merci, merci, merci, mon Pére_!” She sighed happily, hugging him and placing soft kisses to each of his cheeks. She understood it was no small inconvenience for the man to part with her new head of security. She appreciated the gesture immensely. As she looked back at her new counterpart, she knew no other man could have taken the position. It had always been meant for Horace.

Rosalie pulled up a seat for her friend and busied making him a cup of tea. She and Horace would have time to catch up and select the rest of her security detail later. Returning to the table, the woman sighed happily, “How was the flight?” she asked, her request directed at the younger man.

Horace smiled, responding in his smooth Egyptian accent, “It would have been better if _somebody_ hadn’t absconded with the jet.”

Rosalie caught him smiling into his teacup. “Oh yes. How ever did you survive in first class on a _pedestrian_ airline?” Her impish reply made the large man laugh merrily.

The woman looked to Florian again, getting straight to the point. “What is your opinion of Reddington?”

Florian’s shoulders shrugged, “Être galant.”

“You consider him a gentleman?” Rosalie asked, her eyebrows raised.

  
“As much as a criminal can be a gentleman, so he is. I have no objections to your working with the man.”

  
Her eyes narrowed at his comment, “A criminal can be a gentleman, _Pére_. You’re evidence of that.” Horace silently nodded his agreement.

  
The old mobster chuckled and wrapped his arm affectionately around her slight frame. “Say that again, clearly into the microphone. I want to play it back to Marietta whenever she is livid.”

Rosalie tittered at his joke, pinching his side playfully.

Her face turned serious once again. “If you agree that he is a good man, I must ask you to allow me to broker the deal with him as I see fit.” The young woman knew Florian had been building up to the moment when he would ask her to allow him to broker the deal. She understood it was all in the name of her own protection. However, this would likely be the biggest deal of her career. She would not have anyone orchestrate it for her, even Florian.

Florian felt the weight of a heavy stone settle in his stomach. He looked at his young ward, _his fille_ , the pride and joy he thought would never be his… He had known this day would come, when she would insist on fully and completely standing on her own. Florian just hadn’t expected it so soon. His heart sagged with the empty-nest feeling only a parent could know, and yet, an even greater part of him burned with an agonizing pride. He had fought for her to have this future she so deeply desired. He had taught her everything he knew to ensure she would be safe and successful. This was her moment.

Florian’s eyes shimmered with the unexpectedly powerful sense of fulfillment he felt as he sighed, “But of course, _mon fille_.”

*****************************************************************************************************************

Reddington returned to the safe house a few hours later with Howard Hargrave safely in tow.

The two-story building tucked beautifully into the hillside was warm, luxurious, and perfectly unsuspecting. Raymond found himself thinking he could certainly get used to this.

It wasn't until dusk that they finally got another glimpse of the vivacious little inn keeper.

Upon entering the home's lavish lounge, Rosalie's eyes narrowed at Howard. "Aha!" she snapped, "So _you're_ the one who ratted me out."

Howard roared with laughter, waving a hand apologetically at Rosalie. Her chastising look didn’t budge one iota, only serving to make him chuckle even more.

Florian Armel gestured Reddington toward the veranda as Rosalie was introducing her new bodyguard, Horace, to Dembe and Howard.

Red had expected this discussion to arise. Rosalie was relatively new to the criminal game, and her connection with Florian ensured that the man would end up being the broker for their deal. Pouring a scotch and lighting his cigar, Raymond settled in for a long negotiation.

Imagine his surprise when the mobster simply sat beside him, enjoying his cigar.

“We never had children, Marietta and I. We felt our lifestyle was too much to thrust upon a babe. I can’t tell you how much I regretted that in later years.”

Red nodded his head in silent agreement, he had seen this coming. Like a father cleaning his shotgun on prom night, Florian was going to ensure the younger man had only pure intentions where his “daughter” was concerned.

The older man smiled fondly at the sea in the distance. “Then, a young, country-less spitfire came to me. The little fiend had outbid me on a property in Marseille, swept it right out from under me. When I had my men bring her to me so that I could convince her to part with it…she told me no, in no uncertain terms. However, she did generously offer to rent me the property whenever I had need of it. She had a business plan, you see. A network of safe houses and hideouts that could protect “criminals” who were in fact necessary to the function of our society.”

Raymond found himself smiling at the girl’s gumption. It was a wonder she had survived this long, with that kind of cheek.

Florian chuckled deeply at the memory. “I was so taken aback by her, her spirit, her ferocity. That merciless intellect paired with feminine vivacity. It was like the daughter I’d always hoped for simply appeared on my doorstep.”

The cigar smoke unfurled around them in rippling curls as they heard the woman in question laughing gaily in the lounge.

“I brought her into the fold. I taught her to be like me. _More_ than a criminal, an institution. We accepted her into our lives and she repaid Marietta and I with the love only a child could bring. I nicknamed her _petit chat de’la réve, ‘little hellcat_ ’ for her fiery temper. She calls me _gros ours, ‘big bear_ ’ for she would ride along with me when I had to terrorize a few people.”

Reddington chuckled in spite of himself, halting when he turned to look at the man next to him.

Florian suddenly looked much older. His smile faltered minutely as he thought out his next statement.

“She has learned well, _mon fille_. So well, in fact, that I have reached the pinnacle of a parent’s journey. Rosalie is at the threshold of her empire. She is ready to open the door to her future, away from my protection and guidance. It just so happens you and your organization are what lie behind that door.”

Red was pleasantly surprised. This meant he and Rosalie would be finalizing the deal alone. It was uncommon for a newer player to broker their own deals. By removing the third party, Rosalie was indicating a certain level of trust in the transaction, and to a greater extent, Reddington himself.

The Frenchman heaved a great sigh as he finished his drink. “There are people with whom we build our empires. Those we love, those we esteem, and those we despise. I am leaving you with one of the people I love most in this world. I hope I do not live to regret it, Reddington.”

The powerful old mobster stood, setting his glass back on the cart. His icy blue eyes seemed to bore holes into Raymond's soul as he held out a large hand.

The younger man took it, squeezing firmly and meeting the man’s gaze. “I’ll look out for her, Florian. I take care of my own.”

A small smile flitted across Florian’s face before he gave a curt nod and took his leave.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: Give and Take
> 
> Raymond poured them both another glass of wine, chuckling in spite of himself. 
> 
> Rosalie was stilling beaming a mischievous grin.
> 
> They would get down to negotiations...eventually.
> 
> For now, he was just a man out to dinner with a beautiful woman.


	7. Give and Take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another chapter that ran long, but I opted just to post it as-is, feel free to let me know if you like the longer or shorter chapters!
> 
> The inspiration for the SoHo Penthouse: https://onekindesign.com/2016/03/17/luxurious-new-york-city-townhouse/

_August 13, 1998 - Hillside Safehouse - Varna, Bulgaria_

Rosalie said her goodbyes to Florian in the morning amid promises to call and assurances that the man would give Marietta her love. He had kissed the girl goodbye and gave Horace a thump on the back before heading to the car with Cedric and his detail.

The young innkeeper’s face held a bittersweet smile as she waved to Florian’s receding sedan.

Horace reached an arm around her shoulders, giving the woman a gentle squeeze, his voice lilting gently as he spoke, “It’s just you and I now, Boss.”

Rosalie’s nose wrinkled adorably at the term. Her new head of security had been working in a mob environment too long. Her slate eyes met his, “You will call me Rosalie, Horace. You are my right hand and my friend. I won’t have you calling me ‘Boss.’”

The Egyptian laughed heartily at her comment, putting his hands in his pockets and peering down at her. “As you wish...Captain.”

The woman grinned impishly up at him and patted his cheek. “Brat. Now, let’s get you fed and we can discuss our plans for New York.” Her little hands shooed him back into the house as he let out a barking laugh.

Up at the safehouse, Raymond Reddington watched the exchange thoughtfully. It was good for the woman to have her own security. He would have insisted on it eventually, a criminal in her shoes presented too big a target. A laugh escaped his lips as he watched the woman bully her guard back into the house, following him only to reappear in the kitchen window.

She was a curious little thing. He could see her laying out enough food to feed an army while she chatted animatedly with Horace. As the man continued to watch, other people began trickling into the room. Two younger women and the man Red recognized as the property manager shuffled to the kitchen table, where Rosalie had placed half a dozen beverage carafes. The woman seemed to be taking orders for eggs and the like, fixing plates for each individual as they filled their glasses with their drink of choice.

Another smile twitched at Red’s mouth as he watched Horace steal a piece of bacon only to have his hand gently swatted away. A plate filled with eggs, bacon, and potatoes was immediately offered as compensation; his young charge urged him toward the table with the rest. Reddington felt a twinge of affection for the woman as she brought in a large tray of pastries before finally fixing her own plate.

A soft knock echoed into the master suite, pulling Red’s thoughts from the guest house and the innkeeper inside.

Dembe’s head appeared in the doorway. “We are due at the docks shortly.”

The older man nodded, plucking his hat and jacket from the table and following him out the door. Reddington felt a cool, calculating sense of purpose descend over him as they headed for the meeting. It was time to finalize his deal.

*********************************************************************************************

In the guest house, Rosalie nervously fiddled with her food.

Horace had caught her eyes flitting up to the safe house periodically throughout breakfast. Finally, the man set down his cutlery and peered curiously at her, his face asking the much-needed question.

Rosalie’s eyes flickered guiltily to the safe house again. “Should we see if they wish to join us?” she asked, “Or is that too much, too soon? I don’t want to overstep…” The young woman was babbling and she knew it.

“Dembe told me last night, there’s a deal being finalized this morning. If they’re still at the house, they will be leaving shortly for the marina.” As if on cue, Horace looked up to see Dembe, Reddington, and Hargrave loading into their sedan. “See?” he gestured, returning to his eggs.

“Hmm…” Rosalie watched the men as well, slightly perturbed that she would not see Reddington before she headed for New York. “I’ll bring some pastries up to the safe house before we leave.”

She figured if they weren’t hungry now, they may be later. Dembe at least was still a growing young man, after all. The thought made Rosalie giggle softly, realizing she sounded terribly like her mother.

When breakfast was cleared and the pair’s bags packed, Rosalie headed up to the safe house with the maids. They placed a few carafes of juice, coffee, and tea in the kitchen while Rosalie arranged an assortment of pastries on a cake stand and covered the confections with a glass cloche. Pilfering a slip of paper from the lounge, she penned a quick note to Reddington before bidding farewell to her associates.

Horace pulled up in the dark suv, stepping out to open the rear passenger door. Rosalie raised her eyebrows at the backseat. She was used to driving, or at the very least being in the front seat. The woman turned to look at Horace, who waited, patient but unyielding. Finally, Rosalie climbed into the backseat, tucking a loose curl behind her ear before looking back up at the house. The maids waved from the master balcony, where they had been changing the sheets. Rosalie waved back as Horace started driving.

“You’ll have to get used to riding in the back, Rosie.” The man sagely advised the rear-view mirror, seeing the woman’s uneasy posture.

“It feels weird,” she conceded, “I feel like I should be up front with you.”

Horace’s features belied his amusement. “ _That_ is because you are a control freak. One who believe strongly in being equals with one’s associates. A trait which will garner you a lot of loyalty. However, you _are_ being my equal by sitting _behind_ me.”

“How is that?”

“Rosalie, if we were to get into an accident and you were in the front seat, I would turn the vehicle so I took the brunt of the impact.” He stated simply, as if it were the most natural conclusion in the world.

The young woman gasped, “Don’t you dare, Horace.” Her tone brooked no argument, and yet the bodyguard chuckled and shook his head.

“ _That is my job._ ” He said with an unflinching finality, “Putting myself in the line of fire to protect you is precisely what I am hired to do.”

The woman’s eyes softened imploringly at him, a silent plea for the man to see sense.

Horace looked again in the rear-view mirror, his shoulders set. “I am your security, I’m here to keep you safe. Which is why I appreciate you sitting behind me. You’ve taken away the need for me to put my body in front of yours, at least in this scenario.”

Rosalie’s mouth pursed as she contemplated Horace’s meaning. Having them on the same side meant only one side of the vehicle to protect. He would be able to protect her and himself at the same time. The young woman sighed, nodding her head in acceptance. She wouldn’t put Horace’s life in danger if she could help it, even if it meant being relegated to the backseat.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to teach me these things all over again, Horace. I seem to have forgotten this past year what it means to have a bodyguard.” Her wide grey eyes peered sheepishly at the back of his head.

The bodyguard chuckled dryly, “Oh don’t worry yourself, Rosie. We’ll have a bodyguard boot camp on the flight to New York.”

A groan of discontent issued from the backseat, drowning out the sound of Horace’s amusement.

*****************************************************************************************************************************

The deal occurring in the abandoned warehouse on Varna’s docks took longer than expected, but Red was very pleased with the purchase. The old warehouse was his, after lengthy negotiations between Howard and the Bosnians holding onto it. The port was an ideal location for small-batch weapons movement into Armenia, Azerbaijan, and Ukraine. Shipments would begin making their way across the Black Sea within the next week.

Happy to be done with meetings for now, the men headed back to the safe house shortly after noon.

The guest house was quiet, the innkeeper’s dark suv no longer stood in the shadowed drive. The woman and her bodyguard would be en route to New York already.

Red made a note to ask why she didn’t just fly with him and Dembe. It didn’t make sense to have separate flights everywhere. Especially once he began forwarding his own clientele to her network. They would be in constant communication, why bother working separately?

The man typically had business to deal with right away when he entered a city, anyway. Her associates could get the majority of the property ready while they were in the air, and she could finish any last-minute preparations once on the ground.

Perhaps she didn’t want to fly with them? The woman had an entire network of other clients, maybe she needed the time to coordinate their arrangements?

Red’s contemplation was interrupted by an indecent grunt of approval from the kitchen. He walked into the room, eyebrows raised in mild indignation, only to find Dembe taking a huge bite out of a danish. The young man held out a slip of paper with Red’s name on it before returning to his treasure trove of confections. 

 

 _Raymond,_  

_Sorry to have missed you, Horace informed me you had dealings in the marina just as you were leaving._

_I’ve left the coordinates for your next location in a copy of ‘The Odyssey’ in the lounge._

_The pastries are also for you and Dembe to enjoy, I’m sure you didn’t eat this morning._  

_See you in Manhattan,_

_-Rosalie_

 

Reddington grinned at the variety of delicacies contained under the glass dome. It was a nice gesture, and the man suddenly realized he was _absolutely_ famished. Pulling the cloche off with a flourish, Raymond scoured the pastries, looking for one that spoke to him. Some were filled with deep red cherries, a few held vivid orange apricots, and still others were filled with swirling cream cheese. Red’s eyes sought out a lemon pastry before falling on a kolache cradling a deep, midnight purple filling. He plucked the item from the bunch and took a large bite, emitting a grunt of approval similar to Dembe’s. _Blackberry_.

The younger man could be heard chortling next to him. Raymond had inadvertently ended up with a dark purple mustache.

The older man couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. He was already looking through the stack of pastries, determined to pilfer all of the blackberry ones.

Dembe reached over, attempting to garner one of the coveted delights for himself. He couldn’t contain the laughter as he met Raymond’s eyes, which were narrowed peevishly.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” the man bartered, “I’ll trade you _one_ blackberry for a lemon.” Red had already noticed Dembe hoarding the pastries in question.

The young man’s dark eyes fell to his stash of pastries filled with bright yellow lemon curd, considering the offer. Somewhat reluctantly, he parted with one, sliding it into the center of the kitchen island.

Like a prisoner exchange, Dembe didn’t release the golden confection until Red slid a a deep purple one alongside it. Each eyed the other warily for any signs of skullduggery as they pulled their swaps back to their respective sides.

A booming voice echoed into the kitchen, carrying an obvious tinge of amusement. “I’ve never seen such hostilities over baked goods, lads.”

The successful negotiators looked at one another in open concern. Dembe stealthily tilted a cookbook up to hide the remaining pastries from sight. Sharing with Red seemed to be the lesser evil of sharing with Red _and_ Hargrave.

The move was so subtle, so incredibly funny, Red couldn’t help but roar with laughter. Wiping his mouth on one of the available napkins, he glanced apologetically at Howard. He nearly offered the man a pastry when a young woman Red recognized as one of the maids entered the room with a basket full of linens.

“Oh!” she squeaked, “I’m so sor-” The young woman was cut short by Dembe pulling his firearm from his back. She had startled the young bodyguard and it seemed that he had startled her, as she dropped the laundry basket with a heavy thump.

Red moved quickly to diffuse the situation. Striding around the island, he placed a hand on top of Dembe’s gun, guiding it toward the floor. He spoke gently to the woman, “I’m terribly sorry about that miss, you just surprised him, that’s all.”

The woman looked with wide eyes at the tall, dark bodyguard before picking up her basket. “It’s okay, I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft and slightly awed as she scurried from the room with one last brief glance back at Dembe.

Reddington shook his head, chuckling his amusement. “Dembe, you are going to have a difficult time with the ladies if you insist on pulling your gun on half of them.”

Dembe’s calm, smooth voice filled the room matter-of-factly. “One should always have their wits about them when negotiating a pastry exchange.”

Howard Hargrave proceeded to howl with laughter while Dembe smirked around a mouthful of stolen Blackberry kolache.

*********************************************************************************************

_13 hours later - August 13, 1998 - Teterboro Airspace_

Rosalie and Horace’s flight was uneventful. Other than going back through the basics of her security, the pair spent their time catching up and selecting the remainder of her detail.

They had quickly settled on two familiar faces. Theodore Beaumont and Otto Henschke had worked as guards within the Corsican gang for years. Once Florian had approached Horace for the lead job, the pair immediately offered up their services as Rosalie’s security detail. Her head of security indicated both men were looking for a change of scenery and would be excellent candidates. Feeling confident in Horace’s assessment, Rosalie had offered Teddy and Otto the positions. The pair were now en route to Manhattan as well.

Horace had just finished a call arranging their transport from Teterboro to the safehouse when he took a seat across from Rosalie. The woman had dozens of papers lined up in neat rows in front of her, satellite phones placed on half of the stacks. She was finalizing preparations for a client seeking a safehouse in Venezuela, her voice chattering in rapid Spanish.

The bodyguard smiled at the sharp cursive writing that splashed several pages in a variety of different languages. The woman was still getting her feet under her, but he had to admit she had a flair for logistics. She had settled three other clients and hired two new property managers in the span of one flight. Knowing this business with Reddington was going to stretch every criminal muscle she had, Rosalie was not about to wait until she was underwater to start hiring more help.

His mind back on Raymond Reddington, Horace looked thoughtfully at the woman across from him, determined to ask the question which had been plaguing him.

Rosalie hung up the satellite phone on the end of a sigh, glad to be done with the demanding client. She looked out the window to see they were making their initial descent into Teterboro. Her eyes turned to Horace, “What?” she asked, seeing his head tilted in question.

“What do _you_ think of Reddington?”

Rosalie took pause. The question was not a simple one, she and the man were all but in bed together in a business sense. She didn’t see Horace’s point in bringing up the matter now. Raymond had Florian’s trust and admiration, that was enough for her. Yet he wanted to know what _she_ thought of Reddington? Her bottom lip worried between her teeth as she pieced together her response.

“He feels familiar,” she said, somewhat lamely, “I can’t quite place my finger on it, but I feel quite comfortable in his presence. He’s an intimidating criminal. The man’s power and intellect are practically palpable, but I get the sense that he is reasonable, fair. More than anything, I feel that he is building his empire for reasons other than greed.” Rosalie faltered slightly, “Does any of that make sense?”

Horace chuckled, reaching a hand out to pat hers. “Yes Rosie, it does. I’m glad you feel comfortable in your dealings with the man. I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable because that’s how _you_ actually feel versus you feeling comfortable because Florian told you Reddington was a good man.”

Rosalie grinned impishly up at him, “Well, I won’t lie, that helped too.”

The pair chuckled merrily as the jet landed with a low _thump_ on the tarmac. Their laughter was interrupted by one of Rosalie’s satellite phones ringing. It was Reddington.

“Hello, Raymond.”

The man’s voice rumbled pleasantly through the connection, “Rosalie, I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“Not at all, we just landed.” The _whoosh_ of the jet’s engines made it slightly difficult to hear.

“Excellent, I wanted to catch you before you could make other plans. I propose we meet for dinner tonight to talk shop.”

Rosalie’s eyes widened in surprise, “Um, sure, that would be lovely... What time?... What should I wear?”

A low, rippling chuckle echoed through the phone as Horace hung his head in embarrassment.

_Did she really just ask what she should wear?_

Rosalie’s head thudded into the tabletop as her bodyguard reached over to pat her shoulder consolingly. The woman had sounded like a teenager preparing for a first date.

She could hear Horace sniggering under his breath, “ _Talk about a not-so-smooth criminal…_ ”

Reddington recovered quickly from her question, carefully biting back the witty retort he was dying to toss her way. He had found in his life that trading barbs was much more fun when you were there to witness the inevitable indignation and eventual rebuttal.

“We’re arriving four hours after you. I have a meeting with an associate shortly after we land, so let’s say eight? As for clothing…” the man paused, keeping his tongue in check, “I have no doubts you’ll rise to the occasion.” Red gallantly ended the call, holding his amusement from spilling over into his voice.

Dembe looked suspiciously at him as Raymond pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to get his shit-eating grin to abate. He had finally gotten the little minx on her heels.

*********************************************************************************************

_Early Evening - August 13th, 1998 - SoHo Safehouse, New York_

The SoHo townhouse was secretly one of Rosalie’s favorite locations. The six-story building was perfectly unsuspecting from the outside. Once inside the door, the townhouse was, there was no other word for it… _funky_. The swooping elliptical staircase with its emerald green runner ran the full height of the home, taking guests from the farmhouse style kitchen all the way up to the fourth floor office.

The interior design was all over the place. The bedrooms were minimalistic with clean lines, while the lounge played off an Art Deco chandelier that made the room feel like a 1920’s speakeasy. The living room had elements of postmodernism yet it somehow merged beautifully with the first floor landing, which had a decidedly Asian feel.

The home boasted a lovely little garden which extended from the kitchen for entertaining purposes. A smaller terrace was attached to the office, accessed via a system of cantilevers which tilted the entire wall of floor-to-ceiling windows outward. The far end of the little terrace held a spiral staircase leading to the pièce de résistance, a rooftop patio which looked out at the Manhattan skyline.

Rosalie beamed at the view, fluffing the patio pillows again before heading down to change. It was 7:30, Reddington would be arriving shortly.

*********************************************************************************************

Like clockwork, Dembe and Raymond pulled up to the townhouse at 7:45. Rosalie met them at the door, ready to give them a quick tour.

The cocktail dress she chose for the night was a classic cut, with long sleeves and a boat neckline which gave the tiniest peek at her delicate shoulders. The deep emerald fabric seemed to flow like water over her feminine figure, lingering in the dip of her waist and surging at the crest of her hips.

Red found himself thinking the woman needn’t have worried about her attire. What she had picked was the perfect mix of business and pleasure. The man found himself enjoying the pleasure side of the equation as the woman’s hips swayed sensually up the stairs. Her little feet were still bare as she padded around the house, giving the men a tour of the space and showing them to their individual rooms.

Raymond let out a contented sigh as he unpacked in the master bedroom. He liked the quirky townhouse with its melting pot of styles and textures. He fully intended to negotiate the little spot into his deal with the young innkeeper. He did quite a lot of business in New York between the mafia bosses and the shipping routes. The townhouse’s location was central to both, and the man felt immensely comfortable in the space. Knowing this would be his residence whenever he was in town would make his dealings in New York much more enjoyable.

A soft knock echoed into the space before Rosalie entered the room. She wrung her hands nervously as she stood just inside the door. “I’m sorry, would you mind if I pop into the master closet for a moment? There’s a pair of shoes in there I would like to wear tonight.”

“Not at all, though I don’t believe I saw any women’s shoes…” Red waved a hand toward the room which already held a few of Red’s suits hung neatly in rows. He watched the woman flounce into the closet, completely unconcerned.

“Oh, they’re not out in plain sight.” she chimed, reaching on her tiptoes to pull something from the door frame. A slender key fell into the palm of her hand, which she quickly used to unlock the back wall.

A small space opened to show a variety of paraphernalia. Clothing, personal items, firearms, and what were unmistakably bug-out bags.

Rosalie hummed to herself as she skimmed a scant few shoeboxes, finally pulling one from the stack before locking the wall back in place. She gave Red a passing wink. “Don’t go telling anyone about that.” she intoned over her shoulder in a conspiratorial voice.

“Tattle? Me? Never.” Reddington feigned innocence, going so far as to give the woman a Boy Scout salute.

Rosalie could be heard giggling down the hallway as Red ran his hand over his face. _Why on earth had he done a Boy Scout salute?_ The man shook his head, getting back to the task at hand.

A few minutes later, Red was freshly showered and descending to the main level of the house.

Rosalie was seated in the lounge, chatting quietly with Dembe. She looked up at the man, not able to curb the blatant once-over she gave him. Rosalie had always loved a good three-piece suit, and The Concierge of Crime wore it better than any man she had ever encountered.

The soft dove-grey jacket covered a crisp white shirt that paired handsomely with the silk tie knotted neatly around his neck. Rosalie noted with a tinge of amusement, the geometric tie consisted of a deeper grey, dots of cerulean blue, and a green the exact shade of her dress.

Red caught the woman eyeing him appreciatively. He was hard pressed not to strut into the lounge under such a gaze. Raymond Reddington had a bit of a reputation for being a lady’s man, and truth told he never grew tired of feminine eyes raking his form. Rosalie seemed to enjoy the hell out of a three-piece suit, a thought which interested the man greatly.

Red leaned a hand on the door frame and tucked the other in his trouser pocket, gazing smugly at the young innkeeper.

Rosalie realized she was still staring, somewhat lasciviously, at her client. She pinched her wrist, trying to drag herself back to a more innocent train of thought.

The man’s mouth quirked in amusement, deciding to give the woman a reprieve. “Shall we?”

***************************************************************

The pair rode in relative quiet, Dembe and Horace occupying the front seats. They were heading to one of Raymond’s secret haunts for French cuisine.

As the sedan pulled up to the front of a charming brick building covered in deep green ivy, Red looked to Dembe and Horace. “You’re sure you don’t want to join us? The bouillabaisse is positively decadent.”

Horace shook his head, “No Sir, you two enjoy your evening, Dembe and I have a date with the Henchman’s bar.”

Red chuckled his amusement. The Henchman’s bar was a right of passage for criminal security, a place that regularly catered to those guarding the criminal elite. Dembe would find the place very amusing, and as the two large men opened the doors for their passengers, Raymond heard Rosalie telling Horace to keep an eye on the younger man.

“I mean it, Horace. Keep him safe. I don’t want to wake up to find that sweet boy hungover in Queens or, god forbid, New Jersey.”

Horace’s face was the epitome of amused innocence. His employer, unfortunately was not buying it for a second.

Before the woman’s hackles could raise any higher, Reddington chuckled and placed his hand gently on the small of her back. “I’m sure Horace will take good care of Dembe.” the man intoned, guiding her toward the restaurant. He looked back to give the man in question a meaningful look and received a curt nod in response. Assured that Horace would indeed look after the young bodyguard, Red continued with Rosalie into the establishment.

The decor in the restaurant had an old-world glamour that spoke of both decadence and mischief. The large chandeliers, the only sources of light in the place, cast a seductive hue over the proceedings, while the crisp white table linens and gooseberry-hued chairs beckoned to their diners. A suave, portly man in a suit of plum velvet immediately greeted them at the door, referring to Reddington as _‘Mr. Givins’_. The man led them to a private table in a secluded alcove far from prying eyes.

Their waiter came to take their drink orders, returning shortly with a scotch neat and Rosalie’s aviation cocktail.

“You’re a gin drinker.” Red noted, raising his glass to the women across from him before taking a drink.

Rosalie sipped the pale purple cocktail delicately, “And you’re a scotch man.” She set her drink down, peering curiously at him. “What’s your preferred maker?”

“Balvenie, though Bowmore is also a favorite. What’s your poison?”

“Caorunn or Himbrimi. Preferred appetizer?”

“Beluga caviar.”

A smile passed the woman’s lips as she perused the menu, “Hmm… I’m more of a scallops girl myself.”

The waiter seemed to materialize out of thin air. Reddington ordered both appetizers before turning his attention back to Rosalie.

“I must commend your efforts these past few days. Your safehouse network is in fine order. Both locations have been superb, and I think Dembe would marry whomever made those pastries you left us.”

“Yes, well, he’ll have to get in line with the rest of them.” Rosalie tittered, “The pastries were my creation, and next time I’ll be sure to make only lemon and blackberry.” Her eyes glinted triumphantly over the rim of her glass as she took a sip of her cocktail.

Reddington’s tongue prodded the inside of his cheek, he already knew what she had done. “That little maid you had wandering about the house, she wasn’t actually changing linens, was she?”

“No,” Rosalie smiled good-naturedly, “she was doing a little reconnaissance for me. She noted what things you used, what you didn’t, what you seemed to like, what you seemed to avoid. I do it with all my clients. It allows me to continue to cater the space to their needs.”

The man nodded his understanding as their first course was set out before them. He took a bite of caviar, groaning his appreciation. The woman across from him was enjoying her scallops too much to tease him. He looked up just in time to catch her popping the soft, sweet morsel into her mouth. Red swallowed thickly, steering his mind away from the little pink tongue he had spied.

“In the spirit of transparency, I must confess a little subterfuge on my part.”

The woman stopped to take a sip of her cocktail, her slate eyes watching him thoughtfully. “Would this have to do with The Shutterbug?”

Reddington chuckled as he chewed another bite of caviar and swallowed. _Of course she knew, the clever little fox._

Rosalie quirked an eyebrow at him, her smile mischievous. “I take it his little game of hide and seek was fruitless?”

He nodded, “And he was quite annoyed by it too. Nevermind he was getting paid regardless of him actually finding us. The man seemed to take the failure as a personal affront.”

The young woman across from him sighed as their plates were taken away, the remnants of their cocktails replaced with glasses of deep burgundy wine.

“Well, we mustn’t allow ourselves to be crushed under the weight of his disappointment.” she quipped dryly.

The little comment garnered a warm, genuine laugh from her counterpart. The man found her humor quite enjoyable.

Their dinner passed in the same vein, both parties exchanging amusing stories from their travels, their successes and failures laid bare for the other’s witty commentary.

Raymond's stories grew wilder and more interesting as dinner went on, leaving Rosalie in peals of laughter.

They had just ordered dessert when the woman remembered what she had been meaning to ask him. “Why did the owner call you Mr. Givins?”

Reddington’s head tilted to the side in amusement, “Givins is one of my many aliases. A concept you are all too familiar with, _Ms. Alder_.” He teasingly referred to her South American alias.

Rosalie groaned good-naturedly, “Touché.”

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Raymond pulled out a small stack of documents. “Speaking of aliases,” he said, his expression turned serious, “I took the liberty of having these made up for you. Since we are going to be working in close proximity, I thought it would be good for you to have a couple reliable sets of documents.”

The young woman’s surprise was evident on her face as she took the documents and flipped through them. “Raymond, Thank You... I don’t know what to say, this is so generous.”

The man waved the notion aside, “They’re a necessity now, I’ve had a couple made up for Horace as well.”

Rosalie’s face turned to a mixture of amusement and exasperation as she thumbed through the documents again.

“...Patricia Sutton?” she asked, her voice giving away her amusement.

“Patty.” he teased merrily, “Cheer up, the other one is a petty officer.”

The ravishing blonde wrinkled her nose adorably at the second set of documents. “So I’m Patty Sutton, and I moonlight as Petty Officer _Virginia_ Sherman?” Her sharp eyes met Red’s, a deep amusement glinting behind her mock-annoyance.

Red's hazel eyes were positively dancing with barely-contained mischief.

“You'll pay dearly for these names, Raymond.” The completely unveiled threat held none of the conviction it needed for follow-through.

The discussion would have been odd to any outsider passing their table, but the whole exchange left Red immensely pleased. He was already used to having to defend his propensity for gift-giving, yet the woman hadn’t fought him in the slightest on the documents. She took them for the kind gesture that they were and had both thanked and teased him for it. The man found a pleasant warmth coursing through him, he could definitely get used to having the young woman around.

Red poured them both another glass of wine, chuckling in spite of himself.

Rosalie was still beaming a mischievous grin.

They would get down to negotiations eventually, for now he was just a man out to dinner with a beautiful woman.

**********************************************************************************************************************************

The sky was alight in New York City as the pair stepped out into the night. It was still early for them, and they had enjoyed their dinner and conversation so much the pair completely forgot to discuss their deal.

“Did you have a place in mind?” Rosalie asked as they strolled leisurely down the sidewalk.

“Already thinking of a night cap?” Reddington teased.

The woman smiled cheekily, taking his offered arm and guiding him East. Her voice held a purr of excitement, “Yes. I have a sudden craving for vintage booze and expensive cigars.”

**********************************************************************************************************************************

The pair walked quietly for a few blocks until they came upon the mouth of an alleyway lit by a single lamplight next to a grungy looking door. Without a word, Rosalie led him to the light. Reaching up, she carefully unscrewed the bulb just enough for it to go out. The alley was completely dark for a moment before a lamp at the far end flickered into life. Its light was an effulgent blue. Rosalie chuckled softly, guiding them both toward the light.

There was nothing at the end of the alley but the lamp. Reddington was just about to tease her about leading them on a goose chase when Rosalie reached out to the wall next to him; a lone, slender digit extended to prod a solitary brick. To Red’s surprise the brick moved, falling into the empty void behind.

A smooth feminine voice issued from the space. “ _I hope you guessed my name._ ”

“Oh Devil, I daresay I did.” Rosalie giggled right back. The phrase seemed to be a password.

The feminine voice let out a pleased sigh, “ _Good Evening Patron.”_

A deafening silence flooded the alley before the brick wall at the end seemed to split in two.

A darkly chic hostess strode out to meet them, “Welcome back, Ms. Øllegaard. The Tinderbox is happy to serve you, and your guest.” The woman added, smiling flirtatiously at Raymond.

Reddington smiled curiously up at the unsuspecting building, completely distracted.

‘The Tinderbox’ was a notoriously elusive watering hole. It wasn’t criminal _per se_ , the clientele just seemed to border on the grey(er) end of the moral spectrum.

Catering to an inherently conspicuous crowd, the owners of the establishment regularly dismantled and relocated their business throughout the city. The NYPD were baffled, as an entire enterprise seemed to disappear in a puff of smoke whenever they got close. Hence the name, ‘The Tinderbox’.

Raymond and Rosalie followed the woman into the building, the brick wall falling shut behind them.

The establishment had a distinct aura of delectable indulgence. Its walls varied between white-washed brick and antique mirrors which reflected the many and eclectic patrons. The crown molding on the high ceilings held crimson lights pointing upward, making one think of the red-light districts of Paris. Large spectacular floral arrangements were dotted along each of the gleaming bars lining the far wall. A smoked glass elevator stood off to their right, which Rosalie made a beeline for.

The hostess followed them into the elevator, turning a key to allow them access.

The glass cube sprung up through throngs of patrons to arrive on the building’s roof. As the door opened, the pair were greeted by a similarly chic-looking host, “Welcome to _The Cherry_ , Ms. Øllegaard. We have your preferred seating available, as well as your usual.”

The woman smiled appreciatively at the man, “Thank you, Clyde. Could you please cater to my client’s needs? Something from the vintage collection, if you wouldn't mind.”

She left Reddington in the young host's capable hands, who guided the man through to the bespoke humidor room. A cigar sommelier immediately provided a variety of recommendations varying from Cohibas and Fuentes to a few rather rare Gurkhas for Red’s perusal. Selecting a spectacular Cohiba from the bunch, he also placed an order for a glass of a Louis XIII cognac before allowing the host to lead him back to Rosalie.

The woman was relaxing leisurely in a black leather club chair. Her long blonde hair fell over the back of the seat in soft, rippling waves. The slate eyes were closed as she cradled a brandy snifter in one hand and a long Arturo Fuentes cigar in the other.

“An elusive lounge for an elusive criminal. This place suits you.” Reddington teased, alerting her to his presence.

Rosalie chuckled warmly as she sat upright in the chair, crossing one black nylon covered leg over the other and taking a puff of her cigar.

Reddington caught a glimpse of a garter strap before the skirt settled back over her silky thighs. The woman was an endless honeypot of pleasant surprises. Rosalie had excellent taste in liquor and cigars, terrible taste in wine, a dry sense of humor and a razor sharp wit that was bound to get her into trouble. She looked sinfully comfortable in this den of criminals, her feminine features enjoying her vices with practiced ease. Yes _,_ the man thought, he could certainly get used to having her around.

***************************************************************************************************************************

Once they were both well-plied with their night caps and a pleasant haze of cigar smoke swam around the little alcove, talk turned to their deal.

A partnership between Rosalie Øllegaard and the Concierge of Crime was bound to be a profitable one. Reddington already had five clients waiting in the wings for safe harbor in various locations.

Red’s clients would pay the standard rate for access to Rosalie’s safehouses, while he would arrange the necessary transport. They negotiated a very lean team of drivers so as to keep as few people aware of the safehouses as possible.

Reddington also wanted the SoHo townhouse as his regular location when in New York, to which Rosalie was agreeable.

The pair negotiated a monthly discounted rate for Reddington’s use of the properties since he was utilizing roughly 15 per month and was bringing in so many ad-hoc clients.

Rosalie wanted to be his exclusive provider for safe harbor in regards to his clientele, which Raymond was happy to agree to.

The pair didn’t reach a bump in the negotiations until Reddington asked about the extent of her client list.

“I don’t allow my clients to know about each other. You know about Howard simply because he told you, but I cannot tell you who my other clients are and when or where they are staying. It’s a conflict of interest, I can’t have my network being used to settle scores.”

The man cocked his head thoughtfully, examining the young innkeeper. “What if I am looking for someone particularly nasty?” he asked, curious to see how she would react.

Rosalie found herself distracted by the man's cigar, seeing his tongue sneak out to dab at its tip. Her pulse raced as she mentally caught up to his question.

“...Then you would need to catch them while they are en route between locations. My network becomes useless if my clients can’t trust that their position remains private. I’m sure you understand.”

Raymond did understand, though he was not sure he would be so understanding if the situation came to pass. He decided not to force the hypothetical issue. For now, he was satisfied with her integrity.

His next negotiating point stepped into the batter’s box, “Another thing I would like is for you and Horace to fly with Dembe and I from now on.”

Rosalie looked surprised at this suggestion.

The man continued, “I typically have business to deal with immediately when entering a city, if completing preparations is your concern. I think it would be best for all of us considering you and I will need to be in continuous contact.”

He added playfully, “Dembe and I aren’t terrible flight companions, and I can certainly stock the bar with a better gin selection.”

The young woman tittered softly, Red was attempting to sweeten the pot, which told her he really did want them to fly with him.

“Alright,” said Rosalie, “on one condition.”

Raymond waited, his head still tilted with an expectant smirk lighting his features.

“The SoHo townhouse has four bedrooms, when you’re in New York I wish to stay there as well.”

She loved that townhouse, and if she was going to be travelling everywhere that Raymond went, she wanted to be able to stay there as well.

A grin ghosted across his features, “Don’t all of your major locations have four bedrooms?”

“Yes-” Rosalie began, but she was cut off.

“Then why don’t we just stay at the same safe-houses?” Red asked, his tone perfectly innocent.

The suggestion took Rosalie by surprise. She carefully rolled her cigar and took another sip of brandy before answering. “I would assume you’d want time to yourself-”

Reddington jumped in again, “I would have a bedroom for that. A closed door would mean a desire to be left alone. Though, I readily admit, I won’t likely use it. I prefer having company, and I think both Dembe and I would enjoy having more than just the two of us around.”

Rosalie was admittedly taken aback by his frankness. She hadn’t expected this in their negotiations and she felt rather out of her element.

The man sensed as much, and deliberately waited, giving her time to process. Red slowly drank his cognac and smoked his cigar, waiting for a response. When the woman still hesitated, Raymond touched on what he thought might be concerning her.

“If you’re worried about your privacy, I can assure you, you would have your personal space. I certainly wouldn’t begrudge you the occasional visitor or bed partner.”

The lighthearted comment seemed to pull her from her thoughts, making her chuckle lightly. “I don’t know, Raymond, are you sure this is what you want?”

She could see his point, they would be in constant contact if they were to become business partners. It only made sense to fly in the same plane and sleep under the same roof. The more she thought about his suggestion, the more she actually liked the idea.

A small flush crept up the woman’s neck to reach her cheeks. Reddington smiled brightly, knowing she had come to agree with his point of view.

“Yes,” he rumbled, his voice surprisingly low and rough, “I am absolutely certain.”

The little blonde set down her cigar, holding her hand out to the Concierge of Crime. “I believe we have a deal, then, Mr. Reddington.”

Red took the delicate hand in his large one, shaking it gently before turning it over and placing his lips gently to the soft skin of her knuckles.

“To a deal well-struck, Ms. Øllegaard.” The man purred, enjoying the flush that returned to the woman’s cheeks.

It was the beginning of an exceptional partnership.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My, my, those aliases sound awfully familiar ;)
> 
> Preview: A Fine Balance
> 
> Turning to face Raymond, the woman reached back to open the door to the telephone box. 
> 
> Not taking her eyes off the man in front of her, Rosalie cautiously brought a hand up to his tie, gently pulling him into the space with her.
> 
> Red closed the door behind him, an instantaneous desire not to be interrupted enveloping him...


	8. A Fine Balance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this has 50 kudos! Thank you all so SO much! There's much more to come for these two, so please keep reading!
> 
> The Mayfair Flat inspiration:  
> https://www.knightfrank.co.uk/properties/residential/for-sale/carlos-place-mayfair-london-w1k/wer180069

_3 months later - November 1998 - The Canal Safehouse - Amsterdam, Netherlands_  
  
It was a cool and rainy November night in Amsterdam as a man and woman quietly trudged the cobbled streets along the Amstel River. They had just visited a 24-hour bakery to satisfy a midnight craving and considering the weather, had decided to enjoy their prize back at their residence.  
  
Reaching the area where the river curved, the pair admired their canal house. It stood in a long line of tall, slender homes, each just slightly different from the last. There were varying shades of yellows, reds, and greys, accentuated with stark pops of white trimming and details. The couple’s house was a classic brick façade with large arched windows on its face. The deep green shutters were closed on all but the fifth floor, where the soft glimmer of a fire could be seen casting shadows.  
  
It was three a.m. and the woman giggled as she shivered on the doorstep. The man with her chuckled, teasing her under his breath as he pushed the key into the door’s lock. Their after-hours excursion hadn’t been approved by the rest of the house’s occupants, so their merriment quickly turned to shushing as they stepped over the threshold. The pair quickly and silently deposited their coats, hats, and shoes in the hall closet before sneaking through the house with their contraband.  
  
“I’ll get some glasses; you take those to the den.” the man’s voice rumbled in the dark.  
  
A whisper of a giggle reached his ears, “Aye, aye, _Admiral_ ” the woman tittered, carefully tiptoeing up the stairs. Reaching the fifth floor, she slowly turned the knob on the library’s door and stepped inside, trying not to make a sound. The fire was still alive in the marble hearth, bathing the room in a warm, amber glow.  
  
An enormous fluffy sheepskin covered the flooring in front of the fire, inviting the occupants to curl up on its soft, warm surface. Taking a tray from one of the side tables, the woman placed it and the bakery box on the plush rug. She stood up to admire the effect when she felt a shift in the air, like there was someone else in the room.  
  
A large hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream. An enormous arm wrapped around her elbows and torso like a vice. The person holding the woman stood up, lifting her high off the ground. She thrashed against the steel band of the attacker’s arms, but to no avail.  
  
A familiar voice hissed in her ear, “It’s _me_ you little hornet. Stop struggling!”  
  
The woman’s body stopped its movement entirely, tensing in the man’s arms. She and her partner in crime had been caught.  
  
She could hear the man’s footsteps coming up the stairs and tried to warn him, but all that came out was a muffled “Hmm-Hmm!”  
  
Raymond Reddington stepped into the semi-dark room, brows furrowed in concern.  
  
The woman took the opportunity to nip the hand that covered her mouth.  
  
“ _Yuck_ , what the-” her captor began to complain, but was cut off by Rosalie’s amused cry.  
  
“Run for your life!”  
  
Though Rosalie was positively cackling with mirth, Red’s face turned dark and formidable as he glowered at the man holding the young innkeeper.  
  
“What in the _hell_ do you think you’re doing with her?” he asked Otto, Rosalie’s secondary guard.  
  
The office door closed as Dembe stepped out from behind it and turned on the lights. “We’ve been expecting you two. Please, take a seat.” The young bodyguard nodded to the two chairs seated across from the desk.  
  
Reddington looked incredulously between the guard and the chair, a small smile playing at his lips.  
  
“...Okay?”  
  
He strode over to the chair, casually setting the snifters he had walked in with on the gleaming desk.  
  
Otto deposited Rosalie unceremoniously into the chair next to Raymond, the woman muttering a number of oaths at the guard’s retreating form.  
  
Their security detail went to stand behind the desk, arms crossed and features set in a stern manner.  
  
“You cannot keep doing this.” Dembe stated plainly, hoping to get the issue resolved quickly so he could go back to bed.  
  
“Doing what?” Red and Rosalie questioned at the same time, sporting identical looks of utmost innocence.  
  
Otto was not fooled, “You know damn well what. This is the third time this week you two have snuck out in the dead of night to go cavorting around.”  
  
“Cavorting?” Red asked, intrigued, “How did you know we were cavorting?”  
  
“ _I_ wasn’t cavorting.” Rosalie insisted, “I was gallivanting.”  
  
“Oh I do love a good gallivant.” Reddington nodded his agreement, crossing one leg over the other, his expression deadpan.  
  
“I also like a nice _romp_.”  
  
“Not a frolic?” the young woman asked, enjoying the repartee.  
  
“God no, I haven’t frolicked in years.” Reddington stated emphatically, “I like to dilly-dally when frolicking, and I just haven’t had the time.”  
  
“Well, one wouldn’t want to lollygag in this weather anyway-” began Rosalie, but her bodyguard had finally had it.  
  
“Enough!”  
  
“It is three o’clock in the morning,” Dembe tried to reason, “You have been gone for almost an hour without security.”  
  
Otto continued, “Do you have any idea how worried we were? You didn’t leave a note or anything to tell us where you went.”  
  
The perpetrators turned slightly sheepish at these remarks.  
  
Sneaking off for a nightcap had become a bit of a habit for Raymond and Rosalie over the past few months. A client would inevitably call in the early hours of the morning needing documents or some other nonsense from Raymond, who would then have to wake Rosalie, because the client would then need some type of safehouse nonsense from her. It was impossible for either of them to simply fall back asleep after such an interruption.  
  
Things started out innocently enough; the two would simply make a drink, chat quietly for a half-hour, then head back to a restless night’s sleep. Once they realized that was useless, the two expanded to taking a quick stroll around the property. This inevitably and rapidly escalated into the pair sneaking off for hours at a time ordering nightcaps to wind down.  
  
“You could have been injured. You could have been taken. We would have had no idea.” Dembe pressed on, “If this happens again we are hiring a night guard to stand by the door.”  
  
The gentle threat was laced with a certain truth. If they were caught out again, Dembe would certainly contact Kate Kaplan to hire a night guard. This would, in turn, incur Kate’s ire, something neither Red nor Rosalie wanted to contend with.  
  
The pair sat like two properly-chastised teenagers as their security detail stared them down. Rosalie broke first.  
  
“We’re terribly sorry, boys. You work very hard to keep us safe and here we are being reckless for frivolous reasons.” Her face fell to a gentle half-smile, “You won’t catch us in any more post-curfew excursions.”  
  
“You will _cease and desist_ your post-curfew excursions.” clarified Otto, knowing the woman was being vague on purpose.  
  
Raymond, it seemed, wasn’t going down without a fight.  
  
“No, we won’t.” he stated flatly, turning to his counterpart then back to their security detail. “We enjoy our little witching hour shenanigans and I, for one, won’t be stopping anytime soon. We’ll hire a night guard.”  
  
Rosalie beamed at him, both surprised and immensely pleased.  
  
The statement seemed to shock their guards as well.

After a lengthy silence, Dembe turned to Otto and sighed, “That’s as good as we are going to get, I think.”  
  
The young man knew Raymond well enough to know this topic was a lost cause. The older man didn’t deny himself what he enjoyed in this life, and it seemed sneaking off at all hours with a certain innkeeper had become a fast favourite. Up until the two had been caught, Dembe had heard Raymond and Rosalie laughing, whispering, and merrily sneaking around the house. He couldn’t begrudge the man an activity that he took such pleasure in.  
  
As long as they were safe, the bodyguard was content for them to do as they pleased.  
  
Otto sighed in exasperation before nodding and heading back to his room.  
  
Dembe stopped in the doorway, turning an amused glance back at Raymond and Rosalie, the latter having just bumped her shoulder against her companion’s in glee, the former looking determinedly at the wall, trying not to laugh.  
  
“You two are still grounded for the night.” Dembe chided, pointing between the two. “I’ll have my eyes peeled.”  
  
“You’re going to be snoring in a matter of seconds and we all know it.” Rosalie teased, waving him out of the room.  
  
The door closed on Dembe’s deep chuckle, leaving Raymond and Rosalie in silence. Red turned to the little woman, a conspiring smirk on his face.  
  
“Well, all of that chastising has made me ravenous.”  
  
The woman beamed at him, “You pour. I’ll stoke the fire and get the lights.”  
  
A few minutes passed and the pair were happily settled on the enormous sheepskin with their snifters of brandy. The bakery box sat open on the tray behind them, a half dozen kwarkbollen shimmering with vanilla sugar nestled in its confines. The room had returned to its soft orange glow and its occupants basked in the warmth of the slowly crackling fire.  
  
Red leaned back on his elbows, enjoying the quiet. His signature jacket and tie were missing. His shirt had the first few buttons popped, and his waistcoat hung open at his sides, giving him a pleasantly disheveled look.  
  
Rosalie watched the man as he gazed pensively into the flames, the fire lighting up his features. She was glad he wanted to continue their little excursions, she would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy them immensely.  
  
A rumbling laugh escaped from Raymond as he turned to find her watching him. “I can’t believe you caved so quickly.” he teased, his eyes dancing with mirth.  
  
Rosalie looked perfectly scandalized, “Well… I… What was I supposed to do?” Truth told, she was a bit irked herself for her lack of finesse in the situation.  
  
Raymond lifted an incredulous eyebrow, “Tell them to bugger off. Otto is your guard, he’s under your employ. If you want to go exploring in the dead of night with one of the FBI’s most wanted, you’re perfectly within your right to do so.”  
  
Rosalie giggled at his choice of words, he seemed rather proud of his most-wanted status.  
  
“Didn’t you get caught doing things you shouldn’t have when you were young?” he asked, “I know you got up to all kinds of skulduggery when you lived under Florian’s roof. Horace told me all about it.”  
  
The woman’s indignant pout was oddly endearing. “Is that what you two hens do while I’m cooking? Gossip about my escapades?”  
  
“Yes.” Red stated pointedly, his eyes closed, “It’s quite titillating, the sordid tales of youth. I was particularly enthralled by your ingenuity where your skirts were concerned.”

He was referring to her early criminal days, when she had taken up sewing. There was little point wearing a skirt if you couldn’t hide a high-calibre weapon inside it, so the woman had gotten a little creative with her attire.  
  
“You should see what I can do with a trouser belt.” she muttered under her breath. Red popped one eye open to find her grinning slyly at the ceiling. The expression making him chuckle all over again.  
  
There was a beat of silence before Rosalie spoke, “‘... _Sordid_ _tales_ _of_ _youth_?’ What a lark. You’re what, ten years older than me?”  
  
“Yes.” Reddington admitted testily.  
  
Rosalie saw his jaw twitch slightly, changing her tack at top speed.

“ _My_ _God_ _that’s_ _old_ ” she heaved a great sigh, only to have a pillow land with a smack on her torso.  
  
She heard Red laughing as he chastised her, “What a cheeky little thing you are. May I remind you, you’re nine years older than Dembe.”

“Yes, but that’s not _ten_ Raymond.” she teased, earning her another smack with the fluffy object.  
  
Dancing grey eyes peeked out from behind the massive pillow. “Speaking of that sweet young man, whatever is he doing in your company? I think I should bribe him out from under you with lemon kolaches.”  
  
Reddington was grinning in spite of himself. “You leave Dembe alone, I won’t have you corrupting him. And stop avoiding the question. You got into a wealth of trouble and I want to hear about it.”  
  
“I’m sorry to burst your bubble,” Rosalie sighed shifting to lay beside Raymond, propping her head on her hand and smirking at him. “But Inever got caught in any skulduggery before I met the likes of you.”  
  
Red’s resonant laughter filled the room. “Oh, I see, that’s why you sat there like a deer in the headlights. You’ve been up to no good, you’ve just never been held accountable for your lawless ways.”

He was thoroughly enjoying their discussion, all thoughts of winding down for the night were put aside as he contemplated the chortling woman laying across from him. A river of fire traced the edges of her silhouette as she lay on her side. The long sleeved cashmere dress was draped comfortably over her form, her bare legs shining with the light from the flames. She certainly looked like a criminal in her black attire, her face split in a wicked grin.  
  
She finally confessed, “I have a penchant for sneaking out. Even when I was a teenager. I was gifted at getting in and out of the house unnoticed.”  
  
“And where, pray tell, did you sneak off to?”  
  
“I wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities…” her voice held an innocence her face could never match.  
  
“Come now, I’m sure you couldn’t shock me. What was it, vandalizing? Underage drinking? I’m sure you had an old beau throwing pebbles at your windows at least.”  
  
“Oh I did those things too,” Rosalie tittered, “My favourite was escaping to go stargazing with Billy Wilkes. He picked me up down the street from my house, an air mattress perfectly nestled in the bed of his dad’s old pickup truck.”  
  
He shook his head at the boy’s brazen attempt, “How romantic. Where did he take you for this _stargazing_?”  
  
Rosalie rolled to her back, the memory making her laugh and cringe at the same time. “Out to the sticks. One of the horse paddocks on his old man’s farm. There are no lights out in the countryside, we were kissing in the dark under a natural planetarium.”  
  
“I’m sure that’s all you were doing, being the impressionable youth you were.”  
  
“Oh that’s definitely all we did. You see, poor Billy didn’t realize air mattresses tend to go flying when you’re tearing down a dirt road.”  
  
Reddington let out a barking laugh which echoed in the quiet room. “He didn’t.”  
  
“Oh but he did, the mattress made its way across two farms before getting popped by the electrical wire running the stud’s fence at the McCalister’s farm.” Rosalie’s eyes were watering with glee now, “His mother was terribly confused, his dad…not so much.”  
  
The pair couldn’t contain their merriment any longer, the room filling with laughter at the hilarity of adolescence.  
  
Slowly, the sounds of their amusement died away and the only noise left was the crackling of the fire. Raymond turned his head to see Rosalie’s eyes getting heavy. “Time for bed, you little deviant.”  
  
Sleepy grey eyes looked up at him, “Nope. I shared a tale from my criminal origins, now it’s your turn.”  
  
“I stole a strawberry bismark from Trudy Svoboda when I was 11,” he offered, “It was the beginning of a long and lustrous career.”  
  
The woman giggled softly, “That’s not a very good story…” she mumbled, her lips curled into a soft smile as sleep continued to pull her under.

Raymond watched Rosalie relax further into the fluffy sheepskin, her breath evening out to soft puffs. He considered scooping up her little form and take her down to her room, but Red worried she might not want to be carried. It was warm in the room, and the large pillows were extremely comfortable. They could stay here for the remainder of the night.

The man stood slowly, padding across the floor to a stack of merino blankets. Pulling two from the top, he dropped one on his large pillow and unfurled the other. He moved the throw back and forth in front of the fire, taking the chill out of it before carefully draping it over Rosalie.

The young woman let out a little mew of contentment, cuddling the blanket to her. A tender smile crossed Raymond’s lips at the action. He curled up in his spot across from the little innkeeper, his eyes suddenly very heavy.  
  
*************************************************************

Rosalie woke later that morning to the dying embers of the fire and a roaring storm outside. Opening her eyes, she saw Raymond dozing across from her. She smiled in pleasant surprise, for she had never seen the man asleep before. It was odd, seeing him so relaxed.

Opting not to wake him, the woman carefully draped her blanket over his exposed legs and tiptoed out of the room. She wanted to shower and get ready for the day before getting breakfast going.

Raymond woke some time later in a delightfully warm tangle of blankets.

Rosalie had obviously headed down to get ready for the day. The rumble of thunder outside reminded him that they were leaving Amsterdam today. It was a pity, Red found he quite liked the canal house. However, business was taking him to London, and if they were planning to leave later that morning, he needed to get a move on.

The man stretched languidly before getting up and making his way toward the master suite. He would need to shower and pack before breakfast with Rosalie and their guards. Stepping into the steaming shower, Red’s thoughts turned to the young woman in the suite across the hall.

In the three months that had passed since beginning their arrangement, Red had learned a lot about the young innkeeper.  
  
Rosalie had spectacular bed head in the mornings. She was not to be teased about said bed head until she had her first sip of coffee.  
  
The kitchen was entirely her domain, and rightly so, the woman was an exceptional cook.  
  
She had an army of maids spanning multiple continents solely for the fact that she despised cleaning and was admittedly terrible at ironing.  
  
Peaches were a horrendously vile creation in her regard, the disgusted glares she shot the fruit were enough to level a small city.  
  
Rosalie was a quiet observer, with a knack for picking up on Raymond and Dembe’s every desire. She knew to make Dembe’s omelette first, no pork, extra veggies. She knew Red preferred his with toast, white, not wheat, jam, not jelly.  
  
The pair shared a fondness for blackberries, but the woman only liked them cold.  
  
On the mornings where a blackberry would mistakenly make it into her piping hot oatmeal, Red would gallantly pluck the offending item from the bowl and pop it into his mouth.  
  
He had a sneaking suspicion she purposely dropped them in on days when Raymond’s appetite was poor.  
  
The man was surprised to find, though her criminal persona was a fiery little hell-cat, Rosalie’s true nature was warm and affectionate. Inside the sanctuary of her network, she allowed this gentle, caring side of her to come to the fore. It made each home positively radiate comfort.

A few weeks into their arrangement, Rosalie became more comfortable showing affection for Red and Dembe. Her delicate form would come treading barefoot into the kitchen most mornings, reaching to pat Horace’s back, squeeze Dembe’s shoulder, and skirt her fingertips gently over Red’s neck as she passed each of them. Horace mentioned it was a long-standing habit of hers. Raymond found himself leaning into that touch each morning, expecting it, wanting it.  
  
Today was no different as Rosalie tiptoed into the kitchen, pausing to ruffle Horace’s hair and pinch Dembe’s ribs playfully. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders in a riot of curls, still slightly damp from her shower.

Red, having just finished getting ready for the day, sat at the kitchen table with a copy of the New York Times. Soft feminine fingers carded through Red’s hair, making the man lean into the touch, humming appreciatively. All too soon, the little hand left its pastime in search of the coffee maker.  
  
The kitchen was soon filled with the scent of fluffy omelettes, toast, and fresh fruit as Rosalie readied breakfast for the troops. The woman beamed at Dembe, holding out his usual plate filled to the brim.

“I think she’s determined to feed you till you pop, Dembe.” Red commented, garnering a grin from the young man and a glare from the little woman.

“You just bite your tongue, he's a growing boy, and I’ll have yours ready in a moment.” her tone brooked no argument as she passed a plate to Horace. Otto had already left for Germany to attend a family function.

True to her word, Rosalie handed Raymond a plate moments later. Her knowledge of his every whim was on full display. White, not wheat, jam, not jelly. The woman had intuitively made his omelette half its usual size, knowing he would not be very hungry after the 3 am brandy and baked goods. The man’s appreciation was evident on his face as he gave her a passing wink.

Once the four were seated, talk quickly turned to their plans for the day. The trip to London was the first in a long line of European locations which would carry them into spring. The beginning of April would bring business in Havana for Raymond and Dembe, while Rosalie and Horace needed to be in D.C.

This would be the first time their little group was split up since they began their arrangement.

As they all loaded into the car later that morning, Rosalie went over a few safety precautions with Raymond.

“All of the safehouses have hidden exits, should you need them. The one in Havana is behind a bookcase in the lounge. Should you ever need a blacksite, you will need to call me. There should be a phrase, something you don’t usually say, that will alert me to your situation.”

“How about 'Rosie-dear'?” he supplied, “I never call you that.”

Rosalie’s head tilted to the side. It was true, though other people called her ‘Rosie’ quite regularly, Reddington never did. “Why is that?” she asked curiously.

“Some names lend themselves well to diminutives, ours do not. I prefer to call you Rosalie just as I prefer to be called Raymond.” he stated simply, “Now, what if I’m in a pickle in which I can’t talk freely?”

Rosalie smiled, tapping her pen against her lips. “I’ll ask you a yes or no question. Yes means you can talk freely, no means you can’t”

Reddington nodded, pleased with their plan. He didn’t much like the idea of leaving Rosalie and Horace in Washington, but he did not fully trust the people he was working with on the deal in Havana. Red would rather not have the young woman in harm’s way if everything went to pot.

***************************************************

The flight to London was uneventful, and while the plane taxied, Raymond and Rosalie readied themselves for work.

Reddington was looking sharp in his usual suit, this time in a midnight blue. He donned a dark grey trench over the ensemble, making a mental note to have their winter coats unpacked and loaded on the jet.

He reached back into the closet and nabbed a pale taupe trench for Rosalie, who smiled her thanks and shrugged into the garment. It was quite chilly today, and she was glad of the warm cashmere sweater she had chosen to pair with her pencil skirt.

Raymond admired the softness of the cream-colored garment when his fingers brushed it. “I want one of these sweaters.” He commented, cocking his head to the side as Rosalie turned, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder.

“I think it might be a tad short for you, dear.” she teased, “Besides, the suit is much more manly.”

“I would like a men's version of this sweater, for relaxing around the safehouse.” He clarified, shaking his head.

“Who is this relaxed Reddington you speak of?" she asked, eyebrows raised impishly, "I haven’t met him.”

Red chuckled at her cheek, shooing the woman off his plane.

The pair parted with a wave, their security details in tow. Raymond had meetings with several bankers over the course of the day to finalize a few larger acquisitions for his shipping routes while Rosalie was checking the safehouse before meeting with a couple clients and touring a potential property in South London.

They agreed to meet up for dinner later that night, once everything had settled.

***************************************************

Later that evening, Dembe and Red piled back into the town car, pleased to be finished for the day.

“What time is it?” the older man asked, tossing his fedora onto the seat next to him.

“Seven. We should be heading for the safehouse; you don’t want to keep Rosalie waiting.” Dembe smiled knowingly.

Raymond laughed, “I certainly wouldn’t. Knowing that little chit, she would go without me.”  
  
Raymond and Rosalie’s dinner ‘meetings’ had become a regular occurrence since that first night in New York. Every couple of days they would venture off to enjoy the local cuisine and nightlife. Reddington looked forward to these little rendezvous, the young innkeeper had turned out to be an excellent dinner companion.

Rosalie felt likewise, thoroughly enjoying the secluded hours in each other’s company. Raymond had an absolute treasure trove of stories and opinions that never failed to intrigue and amuse her.  
  
On these nights, they discussed work only so far as their next location, any mutual clients, and what their immediate plans were, which took all of one cocktail to brush past.

After that, their discussions fell to books, travel, music, philosophy, and the taboo. The pair never ran out of things to talk about, but even the silences between them were comfortable. They would occasionally run into acquaintances or old friends who would join them for a meal or a drink, but mostly, the two kept to themselves.  
  
Most notably, the pair had gotten into an unspoken competition of who could locate the most unique and unexpected establishment for their rendezvous. Rosalie found an off-the-rails Mediterranean restaurant for dinner in Sydney, but Red had one-upped her with a nightcap in an abandoned observatory called ‘The Skylight’. The week prior, Red had found an actual underground bunker bar, but Rosalie had awed with a private gastronomy experience in a restaurant called ‘Ultraviolet’. They took their wins and losses with no small amount of gloating, thoroughly enjoying the challenge.  
  
That night, the young woman was practically bouncing with repressed excitement at their post-dinner plans. Following a magnificent beef wellington in a gorgeous restaurant along the Thames, she led Red down a cobbled street, Horace and Dembe following at a short distance.

Honing in on her intended location, Rosalie turned beaming towards Reddington, “You aren’t claustrophobic, are you?”  
  
His eyebrows shot to his hairline at the question, “Should I be concerned for my health and well-being, Rosalie?” he quipped, “You can’t be that hard-up to win our little game.”  
  
A shiver of excitement ran down the young woman’s spine. “Not at all, I plan to win purely on merit. I just wanted to be sure you wouldn’t be opposed to a tight squeeze.”  
  
Her bright eyes gave off that sparkle of mischief Red was becoming terribly fond of. He grinned, reveling in the little ingénue’s choice of words.  
  
Rosalie guided them toward a classic big red telephone box. The thing was perched like a sentinel in the mouth of an alleyway beside an ancient church. Turning to face Raymond, the woman reached a hand back to open the door. Not taking her eyes off the man in front of her, Rosalie cautiously brought a hand up to his tie, pulling him into the space with her.  
  
Red closed the door behind him, an instantaneous desire not to be interrupted enveloping him.  
  
They hadn’t been in such intimate proximity since that day in São Paulo when they first met.  
  
Reddington wasn’t as large as Horace and Dembe, but he was still broad, tall and incredibly masculine. All traits of which Rosalie was suddenly and acutely aware. The scent of his aftershave lingered in the air around them deliciously as the woman tried to gather her wits about her.  
  
Raymond’s eyes grew impossibly dark in the tiny space. He had been amused at first, a small smile playing at his lips. However, when Rosalie had gently and hesitantly pulled him by his tie into the booth, the atmosphere completely changed. Something about that gesture, coquettish and hesitant, yet brimming with desire. It had made the man weak at the knees.  
  
Red was not the only one, however. The little woman was practically trembling in front of him, the electricity in the air sparking at her nerves.  
  
Reddington wrapped his arm around her little waist, his large hand splayed possessively over the small of her back.  
  
Rosalie’s other hand came up to rest naturally on Red’s chest, completely caught up in his proximity. His tie was still firmly clutched in her left hand.  
  
The man leaned forward, pulling her feminine figure tight to him, eliciting the sweetest gasp from his counterpart. A creature which had been lying dormant in Red’s chest for some time had lifted its head, purring its approval at the sight of her.  
  
The woman’s grey orbs were molten, nearly black in the unlit booth, and they were flickering between Red’s eyes and lips as she quivered in his arms.  
  
As Raymond leaned in closer, his nose brushed teasingly against hers.  
  
Then, Rosalie heard the ‘click’ of the phone’s receiver being picked up.  
  
“Who are we calling?” Red asked, his face the very definition of innocence while his voice was a husky rumble that bordered on indecent.  
  
Rosalie blinked rapidly, her mind trying desperately to crawl back to their purpose for being in the booth. “42873” she whispered, her voice tremulously belying her state.  
  
Reddington gave a throaty chuckle, enjoying the effect he had obviously had over her. He prodded the requisite numbers, his other hand still holding her tight to him. He held the receiver to her cheek, fingers brushing the soft skin as a disembodied voice echoed from the other line.  
  
“Password?”  
  
“Gooseberry Lay” murmured Rosalie, her entire being focused on the fingers caressing her cheek.  
  
Red liked the way her lips formed the words.  
  
“Very well.” The voice responded, before the telephone box descended slowly into the ground.  
  
It took every ounce of self-control Raymond possessed not to pin Rosalie to the wall of the booth and devour that pretty little mouth as they descended into darkness. The inability to see made him exponentially more aware of the feel of her pressed against him and the palpable tension in the small space.  
  
The air around them practically crackled, making Rosalie shiver in Raymond’s grasp. The darkness made her brave, and the young woman found herself leaning into his form. Her nose brushed his again when the lift came to a shuddering halt.  
  
A rumble of discontent escaped them both as the door swung open, bathing them in a golden light.  
  
A roaring burlesque club exploded around them as they stepped into the cavernous space. The telephone box headed back above ground to Dembe and Horace while Raymond and Rosalie got their bearings.

Outside of the stifling booth, it was easier for them to shake off the feelings of heady arousal. The pair laughed sheepishly at each other, chalking it up to too much excitement in a small space.

Everything went back to normal as their bodyguards arrived in the lift. Their charges were positively howling with laughter at seeing the two large men jammed in like sardines. Their laughter only increased when they started trying to wriggle out of the box.

“Why didn’t you take separate trips?” Rosalie wheezed, clutching her sides.

Both men straightened their jackets stoically, neither willing to admit they hadn’t thought of it.

Thankfully, a hostess arrived to take Raymond and Rosalie to their seats, saving the men from having to explain themselves.

“ _Gooseberry Lay_?” Red asked as they were lead to a curved booth upholstered in peacock blue velvet.

Rosalie tittered jovially, “It’s 1920’s slang for stealing someone’s garments off the clothes line. I thought it was a terribly clever password for a burlesque bar…”

A stage was perched in the center of the room where the arches met, amber lights swirling back and forth over its gleaming surface. Several little bistro tables lined the space in front of it, while the plush booths were nestled in secluded alcoves around the perimeter.

Peering around the edge of the booth, Rosalie could see Horace and Dembe taking their usual posts at the bar. The latter smiled softly at her and gave a little wave. Horace, on the other hand, pulled a face at her. The woman narrowed her eyes at the guard. Not one to tolerate such cheek, she flagged down a nearby bus boy to coax him into bringing Dembe a tall glass of his favorite beer, while also bringing an obnoxious cocktail with a flamboyant umbrella to Horace.

The boy was amused yet slightly terrified as he walked up to the two huge men. Dembe raised his glass in thanks, making Rosalie beam. Horace gave the boy a look that could curdle milk, making his young charge burst into peals of laughter.

Raymond peered around the booth with her, watching the exchange with unguarded amusement. It warmed him immensely to see Dembe becoming friendly with Rosalie. The pair beamed conspiratorially at each other from across the room like two siblings plotting a magnificent prank.

Looking around at the arches and old stone walls, Red suddenly realized the space they were in was an ancient, unused catacomb. It was likely attached to the decrepit church next door. The space and concept were, truthfully, breathtaking.

When a waitress arrived with their drinks in naught but pasties, a feathered headdress and a matching crimson G-string, Red turned his gaze to his business partner.

Rosalie was utterly beside herself. The minx knew she had won their little game, and was grinning at him like the cat who caught the canary.

Raymond held out his hand, which the young woman took, claiming her victory.

The show was a decadent affair. The acts were wild, funny, and held an undertone of sensuality that both Raymond and Rosalie thoroughly enjoyed.

Halfway through the second act, Rosalie had been forced on stage, as Horace had convinced one of the waitresses it was her birthday. The audience sang to her and a scantily clad performer taught her a dance with a pair of voluminous ostrich feather fans.

Dembe and Horace could be heard wolf-whistling from the bar, making the woman’s face flush a luminous pink.

Rosalie finished the dance in good humor and to a roaring round of applause. As she sauntered back to their table, she shot daggers at Horace, who waved merrily back. Raymond couldn’t withhold a grin as she slid into the safety of the booth amid wolf whistles from all three of her cohorts.

“My god, I need a drink after that.” she sighed, taking a long sip from her cocktail, her cheeks still ablaze.

“I had no idea you had such a talent with fans.” Reddington chuckled, shaking his head.

“Horace will pay dearly for that. Though truth told, I would have really enjoyed it if there weren’t so many people around” The young woman smiled at the troop of bejeweled and feathered performers, “I think I would thoroughly adore being a burlesque dancer.”

Raymond’s mind suddenly held a vivid image of Rosalie’s shapely form nude on an amber-lit stage, her more delectable bits covered by two vibrant blue ostrich feather fans. Something of his thought process must have shown in his face, however, as the woman quirked an amused eyebrow in his direction.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she purred.

Red merely winked in reply, finishing his scotch. He was pleased to note the gesture had brought another flush to the woman’s already radiant skin.

***********************************************************************************

_The Mayfair Flat – London, UK_

The group made their way back to the safehouse in the wee hours of the morning, the November chill chasing them quickly inside. The house’s occupants happily readied for bed, it had been a long and eventful day.

As Reddington set about changing out of his suit, his thoughts turned to the array of stunning homes they had stayed in for the past three months. His partnership with Rosalie was turning out even better than the he had expected. Business was booming for both, and they had hit a stride in their dealings that felt effortless.

Raymond’s day-to-day dealings aside, the man found he was happier with this new setup.

He hadn’t anticipated becoming such good friends with the little innkeeper; however, their common interests and general personalities made the friendship almost inevitable.

Rosalie understood the complexity of running a criminal empire, and he found her celebrating his successes and commiserating his losses along with him. Likewise, Red understood the precariousness of a newly-minted criminal empire, and found himself going out of his way to try and guide her towards the most profitable options.

What was more surprising was Rosalie’s receptiveness to Raymond’s assistance. She listened to his every word, thinking extensively before making any moves. Horace often teased her that the sound of her brain whirring to life overpowered the sound of the plane’s jets.

Raymond found it endearing.

The woman had even started seeking him out for opinions on locations and potential clients.

Rosalie was in the favorable situation of not having to seek out new clientele; they were coming to her in droves on recommendations from current partners. This was good for business, but the woman knew she needed assistance in choosing whom would be allowed access to her network. And so, she had sought out Red.

It had made the man feel incredibly good, to be able to help her. Being the Concierge of Crime, Red seemed to know everyone in the criminal underworld plus their barbers, their lovers, and their first-cousins twice removed. They would often sit in the lounge, Rosalie perched on the arm of his chair, to look over her potential clients. Reddington gave her useful information on the good ones and steered her away from the nastier characters, knowing they would be bad for business and potentially dangerous to her.

Rosalie took his recommendations without question, thanking him sincerely for his assistance.

A smile flitted across Red’s face as he continued to think about the excellent balance he and Rosalie had struck.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock, Dembe hesitantly entered the room with a burner phone in hand.

“Raymond, we have a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: Loyalty
> 
> They stared at each other a moment, unsure who should speak first.
> 
> Finally, Rosalie’s voice broke the silence. “We should wake Dembe.” she suggested, not bothering to take a seat or remove her coat. 
> 
> An icy feeling crawled into Red’s stomach. Was he too late? Would their partnership be over already?
> 
> ...A deep voice Red hadn’t thought about in years echoed inside his mind. _‘Value loyalty above all else.’ ___


	9. Loyalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: Hold My Hand - Jess Glynne 
> 
> The inspiration behind the Glass Flat safehouse in Munich:  
> https://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2017/03/22/realestate/a-loft-penthouse-in-munichs-old-town/s/26IHH-MUNICH-slide-1FAY.html

Chapter 9: Loyalty

_The Mayfair Safehouse - London, UK - November, 1998_

Red’s brow furrowed at Dembe, “What happened?”

“You wanted to know when Patrick made contact. He has not. An associate went looking for him three hours ago.”

“Did they find him?” He asked, feeling as though he already knew the answer.

Dembe handed him the burner phone, his expression sombre. “He was found on a side street of Munich Square. I’m sorry, Raymond.”

Red looked down at the phone with a sigh. Patrick Bergmann had been his key contact in Munich, and a good friend. The man was supposed to be finalizing a weapons exchange for information coming out of the Munich underground, but something had obviously gone terribly wrong.

“How?”

Raymond could tell by Dembe’s tone that Patrick was dead. Their only option now would be to find who killed the man and why.

“Shot,” sighed Dembe, “four times in the chest.”

Reddington grimaced. Several gunshot wounds would be difficult to explain to Patrick’s wife. The woman had no idea who her husband’s true employer was.

It was often easier for the families of associates to believe a lie than to believe their beloved family member was involved with the infamous traitor Raymond Reddington. Red’s people would likely fabricate a story of a robbery gone awry during a simple business trip.

The lie always made the man’s stomach roll in distaste.

“His family?”

“We are taking care of it. A trust will provide for them financially, however, they will still need to be notified.”

Red thought for a moment, his eyes scanning the room. “I’ll ask Kate if she would inform the family. She has a bit more tact with these things.” He dialled the familiar number and waited for the woman to pick up. On the third ring, a crisp voice cut the air.

“Raymond.”

“Kate, I hope I’m not interrupting anything important?” he drawled pleasantly.

“Not at all, dearie. What do you need?” She sounded completely unsurprised. Of course, she already knew about Patrick. She had been waiting on Reddington’s call.

“I’m afraid Patrick Bergmann is no longer with us. I need you to contact the family. Feed them a story they’ll be willing to swallow about his death.”

“Consider it done. Is that all?”

“No.” Raymond stared pensively at his suitcase, “I’m heading to Munich tonight. We’ll need to get a jump on this if we are going to find the person responsible. I would like you to meet us there, and bring our newest acquisition.”

“You think you’re going to have trouble getting the intel you need?”

“Possibly, I’m also curious to see the man in action.”

A dry chuckle left the phone, “We’ll be en route to your location within the hour.”

Reddington closed the phone with a snap, returning the object to Dembe. They would need to leave for Germany as soon as possible.

Heaving an exhausted sigh, the man stepped across the hall and knocked on Rosalie’s door. He found himself smiling as a feminine giggle issued from within.

“One second!” called her tipsy voice, “I’ve got an arm where a leg’s supposed to be…”

Raymond’s mood lightened considerably. His head rested on the door frame as he heard the woman inside stumble and knock something over, swearing under her breath. Catching Horace out of the corner of his eye, Red beckoned the man to him.

“Dembe said you need to leave?” the guard questioned in his smooth Egyptian accent.

“Yes. One of my associates in Munich was found dead. Unfortunately we need to go deal with the matter, and quickly.”

“My apologies. Losing a man is never convenient or easy. Rosalie will want to help, of course. What can we do?” The man’s earnest eyes looked expectantly at Reddington, who actually chuckled.

“I need you to get _this one_ a cup of coffee.” He inclined his head at the door where another giggle could be heard.

Horace let out a barking laugh at this, a large hand coming up to run sheepishly over the back of his head. “She was good and embarrassed at getting called on stage… The gin might have snuck up on her. I’ll be back in a moment.”

As the bodyguard’s hulking frame made its way down to the kitchen, Rosalie’s door finally opened.

The woman was in a white long sleeve shirt and green silk shorts. Her hair was down, lying in pleasantly dishevelled waves that paired well with her flushed cheeks. She seemed to have gotten into a fight with her usual floral kimono, the article lay strewn haphazardly in the vicinity of the woman’s suitcase.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, “minor wardrobe malfunction.” Her hand gestured irritably in the direction of the fallen garment.

“Well, thankfully you won’t need the kimono where we’re heading.” He teased, trying to sound flippant.

Rosalie could hear the strain in his voice, however. “...What’s wrong?”

“One of my associates has been killed, I need to leave for Munich. Tonight.”

Rosalie’s eyes widened in concern. “Come in,” she said softly, some of the tipsiness leaving her voice. She grabbed Raymond’s hand and tugged him to the bench at the foot of her bed.

“Tell me everything.”

The woman’s tone was so genuine, Red simply stared for a moment, taken aback. She still held his hand gently in hers, her thumb stroking back and forth across its surface.

Snapping out of his stupor, the man relayed Patrick’s place in his organization and the purpose of the deal which had taken him to Munich in the first place. He then divulged that Patrick had gone dark that afternoon and Red’s people had been scouring the city for him, only to discover the poor man’s fate. Hence his need to head immediately for Munich.

“Oh Raymond, I’m terribly sorry. I’ll have the safehouse in Munich opened immediately. Of course, Horace and I will be at your disposal.”

As if on cue, Horace came in with a steaming mug of coffee, his obsidian eyes glancing surreptitiously at their joined hands.

Rosalie released Red in favour of taking the proffered cup. “Thank you, I’m going to need that.” She patted Horace’s face in thanks. Then her eyes narrowed as she remembered the man’s shenanigans at the burlesque club, causing her to pinch his cheek irritably.

“Ow!” Horace chuckled, swatting the little hand away. “I’m going to go help Dembe get things packed up.”

“You’re damn right you’ll go help Dembe.” the woman groused, swatting his backside out the door. Raymond sat shaking his head and trying not to laugh.

Turning sedately, Rosalie reached into her bag and pulled out the infamous black folio before climbing onto the bed. She leaned back against the pillows with her legs crossed and plopped the book in front of her. With her cup carefully balanced on her knee, Rosalie reached over and patted the space next to her, fixing Raymond with a look that brooked no argument.

A smile twitched at the corner of the man’s mouth. He did as he was bid, sitting on the bed next to Rosalie and swinging his legs up. The still slightly inebriated woman seemed appeased, going so far as to reach over and card her fingers through his hair. She kept her hand threaded through his short locks as she rifled through the folio. Red found himself tilting his head closer to her, luxuriating in the feel of her nails running along his scalp.

“Munich, Munich, Munich.” The woman mumbled to herself, turning page after page of the folio.

Raymond realized this was the first time he had been able to see the item’s contents. Rosalie was usually quite secretive with the thing. He was taken aback by the sheer number of homes contained in its pages. True to the woman’s style, the book had an extensive color-coded system, seemingly organized by continent.

Finally, Rosalie found the home she was looking for. A glossy photo of a modern flat lay open on the page, its fellow holding a plethora of names and phone numbers for her associates in Munich. Taking one final sip of coffee, the woman set it aside and crawled across Red to grab her phone.

The close proximity brought Raymond hurtling back to their little incident in the telephone box earlier that evening, but Rosalie seemed oblivious to his plight. She let out an exasperated sigh as her arm wasn’t quite long enough to grab the phone, her slender fingers wiggling frustratedly just millimetres from the object.

Red couldn’t help but notice the woman’s reaching had brought her across his lap in the age-old position usually reserved for delivering a swat to someone’s backside. The decadent thought was too much for the man, who quickly reached out and snatched the phone, handing it to her with a darkly amused glance.

“Thank you,” the woman tittered.

Then, realizing just how far she had invaded the man’s personal space, she flung herself back into the pillows, mortified at her lack of decorum. “Oh my… I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize-“

“Nothing to worry about.” Red chuckled throatily, trying to think of anything but the way the little minx had felt draped across his lap.

Rosalie’s face was crimson again as she nibbled her bottom lip. As far as Raymond was concerned, that expression wasn’t helping his present situation. Thankfully, she shook her head a moment later and returned to the task at hand.

Settling into her work, Rosalie placed call after call in rapid German, ensuring a property manager was en route to Munich with maids and other associates in tow. She finished just in time for Horace and Dembe to arrive in the doorway.

“Transport is ready.” said Dembe, “We will be wheels up in 30.”

“That’s my cue to pack.” sighed Rosalie, sliding off the bed.

“You don’t have to come.” Raymond offered, noting the fatigue in the woman’s voice. “Dembe and I can deal with the issue and meet up with you.”

Rosalie turned, brows furrowed, all tipsiness gone.

“No.” she stated simply, picking up her abandoned kimono and folding it.

“No?” Raymond smirked, a little surprised at her brevity.

“ _We_ ,” she pointed at herself and Horace, “are going with you. I told you we would help and that’s what we’ll do.” Her tone told him there was no use in arguing. She added as an after-thought, “And when we get there you are taking Otto with you. If someone is out for your associates they might be out for you. Honestly, you could do with the extra security.”

No argument was made by her counterpart, partly because Raymond was stunned silent. If he wasn’t so jaded, he might have thought the woman genuinely cared about his well-being.

Rosalie, confident she had made her point, shooed the trio of chortling men out into the hall to complete their own packing.

***************************************************************************************

_Red’s Jet – Farnborough Airport - London, UK_

Half an hour later, the jet was taxiing for take-off.

Rosalie had already called Otto, who would be waiting with their transport upon arrival. She was set on sending the surly guard with Raymond and Dembe, if only for his ability to speak German. It also calmed her nerves to know another body would be there to lookout for Reddington.

Once they were in the air, the woman sat dozing in her usual seat. Red and Dembe sat across from her, discussing their situation in Munich.

Truthfully, Raymond hadn’t the faintest idea who might have killed Patrick. Red had made enemies in his time as a criminal, certainly, but he couldn’t see any of them coming into play on this. To the best of his considerable knowledge, none of them were even in Europe at the moment. The deal that was being finalized didn’t step on any toes that he was aware of. There hadn’t been any particularly loud voices of opposition from competitors, either.

Dembe wondered aloud if they might be playing into a trap set to bring Raymond to Munich.

Red tilted his head back and forth, considering the idea. It was possible, but that wasn’t what the man’s gut was telling him. If there was a subversive plot to get him to Munich, he would have heard whispers about it somewhere. He dismissed the idea, thinking it seemed counterintuitive to distrust his instincts after surviving on them this long.

What concerned Raymond was whether Patrick’s death was a one-off issue or a symptom of a larger attack on his organization. The man knew there would come a day when the real threats to him and Lizzie would start rolling in. Red sincerely hoped this was not the beginning of it all. Though he doubted he would ever feel truly ‘ready’ for that day, he had hoped to have garnered a bit more weight behind his empire before needing to do battle with it.

Raymond’s eyes fell to Horace and Rosalie, both sleeping deeply in their seats. He had been surprised at the young woman’s insistence that they help in the search.

If this really was the first shot over the bow in an all-out war, the man hoped he could count them both as comrades in arms.

***************************************************************************************

_Munich_

Upon landing, their group stepped out into the night, all were wide awake after their brief catnap on the plane. The decision had been made to head out while the trail for Patrick’s killer was still warm.

Otto was waiting for them with a large black SUV, yawning and stretching the sleep from his limbs as they approached. Dembe took the keys, gesturing Otto to the passenger’s seat, leaving Red, Rosalie, and Horace to the back.

They arrived in Munich Square shortly after, greeted by a contingent of Raymond’s associates.

Rosalie smiled softly to herself, watching the man don his fedora like a battle helmet. His dark grey suit and swaggering posture gave off an air of power and cunning which made the horde of intimidating associates pale in comparison. Red was a formidable character at the best of times, but seeing the man in action was rather thrilling, truth told.

In fact, it all proved very distracting for Rosalie. The woman found herself eyeing the broad expanse of Raymond’s shoulders interestedly. She abruptly stopped her perusal of his person when Dembe caught her looking. His eyebrow lifted coyly at her. Rosalie met his gaze with one of utmost innocence, making the man flash a deeply amused smile.

Reddington quickly doled out tasks, locations, and people for his associates to pursue. Anything that could possibly give them a lead was to be brought to him immediately. His associates took to their assignments with enthusiasm, scattering hurriedly out into the night in search of the culprit.

The young woman was admiring the conviction of Reddington’s men when a shadowy figure cleared its throat beside her. She jumped slightly before recognizing Baz, Red’s burly head of security. He smiled down at her in wry amusement. Thankfully, the man had forgiven her for chucking him into the elevator while on the run in São Paulo. Apparently he found the whole ordeal quite funny.

“ _Rosie_ ” he inclined his head smugly, knowing he had made her jump. “Boss” he added stoically, reaching out to shake Reddington’s hand.

Knowing Raymond wanted to deal with the matter as quickly as possible, Baz started walking them to one of the square’s side streets. “We’ve already secured the crime scene from local police. I figured you’d want to examine it before the feds could contaminate it.”

Red gave a curt nod of agreement. Baz held up the red and white police ribbon for them to step under, before walking his employer through the attack. Raymond’s eyes were narrowed, carefully taking in every detail of the gruesome scene. Pinprick flecks of blood could be seen leading up to a heavy wooden door. The man recognized the signs of a body having been rested against its face.

The group stood solemnly gazing at the spot. The entire bottom half of the door and its frame were coated in dark red blood. They all understood, this was where Patrick had died. Red removed his hat, eyes never moving from the door. He would kill the man responsible, he promised himself. He would not stand for this.

Rosalie’s heart swelled at the gesture. She had picked up on many of Raymond’s habits and ticks over the past few months, but this one was new. She felt a rush of affection and empathy for the man.

In their world, loyalty was an elusive trait and a loyal friend was the rarest of gifts. Patrick had been both, Red’s gesture intimated as much. Rosalie glanced at Horace with a look that commanded her organization help at all costs. The tall bodyguard gave a silent nod of agreement.

Unbeknownst to the pair, they were being watched carefully by Baz and Dembe, who exchanged looks of their own.

After scouring the crime scene for all available evidence and sending Baz to garner the surveillance footage from the museum across the street, the group headed for the safety and comfort of the safehouse.

Rosalie’s team had just finished and were stepping off the elevator when the troop arrived. The property manager spoke at length with the young woman before handing over the keys with a jaunty wave to her cohorts.

The Munich flat was perched atop a classic brick building, but the flat itself was modern in design. The front walls and the staircase were made of glass and dark metal beams, giving the home a spacious, open feel.

Rosalie guided her guests to their rooms, gently nudging them to go to bed. She was just walking past the master suite when Red came to lean tiredly against the door frame. She stopped and leaned on the other side, giving him a soft smile.

“I need to bother you for another favour, my dear.” He sighed, a little rueful.

“Anything, Raymond.” she assured, looking up at him, her eyes kind and warm.

The statement brought a wry smile to Red’s face, “Mr. Kaplan and Baz are going to need a place to stay, would you mind getting them set up?”

“My team is already opening the third Munich property.” She said, glad to be a step ahead of the game.

“ _Third_?” He asked, his tone impressed.

“Yeah, an old client is in the secondary house. This town is a hotbed, it’s been essential to have a few properties. Munich 3 will be ready shortly, I’ll give Baz a call before I go to bed.”

“Thank you, Rosalie.” he rumbled, pushing off the frame, “Dembe and I are going to hit the ground running first thing tomorrow.”

She nodded and turned to head for the secondary master suite.

“Get some rest Raymond, we’ll get your man.”

Red smiled softly at her retreating form, warmth and affection flooding his system at her words.

***************************************************************************************

Red and Dembe left early the following morning to view the surveillance footage Baz managed to acquire. Meanwhile, Horace and Rosalie headed out into Munich in search of other helpful intel. The young woman had a few contacts in the area whom she could lean on for information that might be useful.

Rosalie was worried about Raymond. She could imagine how much damage had been done due to losing Patrick. The man had a meeting that very morning to try and salvage a deal which Patrick had in play upon his death. Rosalie could empathize; if she lost a long-standing property manager just as a big client was coming in, she would be livid as well. The young innkeeper voiced her concerns to Horace as they left her property manager’s apartment empty-handed.

“I’m sure you’re very concerned, seeing as you’re dating the man.” Horace nodded sagely.

Rosalie stopped in her tracks. “What on earth are you talking about? Raymond and I aren’t dating.”

“ _Right_ , you just _happen_ to go on romantic candle-lit dinners every two days. Definitely not dating.” He replied, his tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Nonsense,” she scoffed, “We have dinner every few days to talk business.”

This wasn’t entirely true, she and Raymond talked shop for all of one cocktail before steering their conversation to everything but business. However, Rosalie wasn’t about to tell Horace that.

The man wasn’t fooled, however, she was avoiding the point. He voiced his disbelief as they climbed back into the car. “You spend every evening and half of most days together. How much business could you possibly have left to discuss?”

Rosalie was about to launch her retort when Horace added, “And don’t think I didn’t notice your cosy little exchange in the telephone booth.”

The woman visibly stiffened. “...Exchange?” she stammered nervously, “What exchange?”

“Rosalie,” her guard sighed, looking at her in the rear-view mirror. “My job is to protect you. Which means I notice things. Do you know what I’ve noticed?”

The woman shook her head minutely, eyes glued to his reflection.

“I’ve noticed that you and Raymond Reddington are thick as thieves. No pun intended.” His beetle black eyes danced merrily.

Rosalie smiled at this. She did feel close to Raymond, truth told, but that didn’t mean that there was anything else between them. She told Horace as much.

“I’m glad you’ve found a friend in the man, just tread carefully there, yeah?” He asked, holding her eyes earnestly.

The woman turned to look out the window, her demeanour somewhat diminished.

“Of course, Horace.” she murmured, “I always am.”

***************************************************************************************

_The Glass Flat - Munich, Germany_

It was late afternoon when Raymond and Rosalie met back at the safehouse.

Baz’s surveillance footage turned out to be invaluable. Several associates were now on the trail of a man who chased Patrick into the alley. Once they located him, they would be able to get a lead on the shooter and finish this mess.

Rosalie’s contacts had also delivered, providing an outline of Patrick’s movements as noticed by a variety of maids, valets, and hotel staff. They now had a working timeline between Patrick’s last contact and his estimated time of death.

The concierge and the innkeeper sat in the lounge after a late lunch, going through the intel they had gathered.

“Where have Dembe and Otto run off to?” Rosalie asked idly, noticing the pair’s absence.

“They’ve gone to pick up Mr. Kaplan and guest.”

“Guest?” her brows knit together in confusion.

Red tilted his head, meeting her gaze. “Kate is bringing a new associate. Someone skilled at extracting information from unwilling parties.”

Kate Kaplan stepped into the room, eyebrow quirked imperiously. “You rang.”

A portly, good-natured man came to stand next to her, smiling leisurely at Red and Rosalie, who stood to greet the new guests.

Mr. Kaplan gestured at the man with a small glove-covered hand, “Raymond, this is Ted Brimley, Ted, this is Raymond Reddington.”

Raymond greeted the man genially, “Mr. Brimley, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Ted Brimley was a kindly man, but he had a voice like a foghorn. Rosalie bit back a giggle when Raymond’s eyebrows hit his hairline as the man spoke.

“I’m sorry to hear about your guy, I’ll be happy to help! I’ll just need a bucket of dry ice, a pair of rubber gloves, and a trampoline!”

It was Rosalie’s turn to raise her eyebrows in shock. She wondered what Brimley’s role was as the man’s grey-blue eyes swivelled to hers.

“And who might this lovely zeeskeit be?” Ted asked in his friendly but booming voice, taking Rosalie’s soft hand in his bear-sized one. “You look like my last wife!” he bellowed.

Rosalie’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh really? Do I look like your next wife?” she quipped, completely deadpan.

The statement knocked the tension right out of the room, making the men roar with laughter and causing Kaplan to roll her eyes.

Rosalie patted Ted’s hand as she let out a tinkling laugh, guiding the man through to the lounge so he and Raymond could talk.

***************************************************************************************

Baz called in the dead of night to inform Red they had captured the man who chased Patrick into the alley.

Raymond had him taken to Kaplan and Brimley at the flat Rosalie secured for them down the street. He would let his new associate begin his work, and hopefully would have some answers in the next few days.

Later that morning, Raymond and Dembe stopped by to check Brimley’s progress. They found the man stepping out of an alcove in the building’s boiler room, rubber gloves up to his elbows and breathing heavily.

“He’s ready for you, Mr. Reddington.” He beamed at his employer, giving him a salute.

Red was impressed to say the least. He thought it would have taken a few days, surely. Ted Brimley had broken the man in a matter of hours. If Raymond was able to get the information he required, he would be employing Ted indefinitely.

“Thank you, Mr. Brimley,” he turned to Dembe, “Well, let’s see what he knows.”

Both men removed their coats and headed for the door hidden in the alcove, Red stopped to thump Ted’s shoulder in appreciation before they strode into the dark room.

Their captive sat on the floor, arms tied to iron pipes running the length of the wall.

His shirt hung open, revealing bright red welts from Brimley’s diligent care. His head lolled to the side as he chuckled deliriously, showing crooked yellow teeth.

Dembe stood by the door as Raymond took the wooden chair across from their captive. He leaned forward, steely eyes narrowed at the young man.

“The gentleman you saw shot in the alley was an associate, and a friend of mine. You seem to know who is responsible. I don’t need to explain what happens if you don’t give me what I want. Do I?”

The man shook his head dazedly.

“Excellent.” Red leaned back and crossed his legs, placing his fedora on his knee. “Talk.”

The sharp command made the man on the floor jump slightly. “I was hired to chase a man down the alleyway. Not to shoot, just to pursue.”

Red’s eye twitched in irritation, “Who hired you?”

“...Altan” mumbled the man, looking up at Red, “He said his name was Altan.”

Raymond glanced up at Dembe for a moment, seeing the young man give an almost imperceptible shrug. The name didn’t sound familiar to Red either.

“How did you meet this Altan?”

“Came up to me in the bar, where your man was getting a drink. Asked if I wanted to earn some money. I said yes.”

“How were you paid?” Red asked, eyes still boring into him.

The man looked miserably down at the floor, “Cash, tucked in a cocktail napkin. A couple hundred marks to chase him down, a couple hundred marks to keep my mouth shut.”

“What denominations?”

“50’s, all 50’s.”

Red’s head tilted to the side, seemingly examining the man for any falsehoods. The look unnerved their captive, who offered up his last bargaining chip.

“The man you’re looking for, he’s in some special secret network. Invitation Only _.”_

“How would you know that?” Red snapped, his tone cutting the air like a knife.

“Bragging about it, he was…” the man drawled through a hideous grin, thinking he had garnered Reddington’s favour. “Houses that can’t be found. Places that don’t exist. He knows you’re after him and he has taken to a _very_ deep hidey-hole.” The man snorted and spat a mixture of blood and phlegm on the floor.

Both Raymond and Dembe wrinkled their noses in disgust, the former rising out of his chair. He’d heard enough. The bastard thought he was safe, but his cackling laugh was cut short as Red pulled his weapon and fired two shots into the man’s chest.

Mr. Kaplan immediately stepped into the room with a troop of cleaners in tow. She patted Raymond’s shoulder gently before setting her team to work.

Red thanked Kate and stopped to speak with his newest associate on his way out.

“Thank you, Mr. Brimley. Your reputation is well-earned. If you are in agreement, I would like to keep your services on retainer. I could make excellent use of your talents.”

Brimley smiled his lackadaisical smile and nodded, “I’d be delighted!” he boomed, shaking Red’s hand jovially.

Raymond and Dembe slid into the confines of the sedan moments later, grateful to be out of the dark and dank boiler room.

“What now?” asked Dembe, uncertain what Raymond’s next move would be.

Red sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I only know of one person with a network like the one the man described.”

The man’s green eyes met Dembe’s dark brown ones in the rear-view mirror, “Rosalie.”

Dembe came quickly to the woman’s defence, knowing Red’s thoughts on loyalty. “Rosalie would never knowingly harbour such a man.”

“Perhaps,” said Reddington, his mood rapidly souring, “There’s only one way to find out.”

The younger man ruefully started the car, not relishing the fact that he was bringing a nasty altercation to the young innkeeper’s doorstep.

***************************************************************************************

_Late afternoon_

Arriving back at the safehouse, Red went in search of his business partner. He strode into the lounge, finding her on the chaise, an assortment of paperwork laid out in front of her.

She smiled softly up at him, “How did things work out with Brimley?” she asked, her interest evident, “Have we got a lead?”

Raymond’s wry smile caused her to take pause. Something was off.

“We did get a lead, a big one at that.” He sighed, dropping his fedora on the coffee table.

Reddington idly flipped through some papers left for him by Baz before adding, “When you have a moment, I’ll need to see your client list. One of them may have information we could use.”

Red had decided to breach the subject of Altan indirectly. He wanted to gauge the woman’s loyalty, and leading with an accusation that she was harbouring the man was guaranteed to get her hackles raised.

“No.”

The man did a double take, hoping he had not heard correctly. “Sorry?” he asked, his tone showing his surprise.

“I said no, Raymond.” Rosalie stated categorically, then clarified, “I told you when we first made our deal; my network is not to be used to settle scores. I won’t give away a client’s location.”

Horace and Dembe had just stepped into the room. They halted and looked nervously at one another, neither sure how this could possibly end well.

“Let me rephrase my request,” Red’s voice was gravelly, all pretence gone, “The man who killed Patrick is rumoured to be hiding in your network. I need to know where he is.”

Rosalie’s mind was fraught with confusion and agitation. Who on earth was rumoured to be in her network, and where did all of this come from?

“Who am I supposedly hiding?” She asked, her tone defensive.

Raymond watched her expression carefully, “A contract killer named Altan.”

‘ _There you are_.’ He thought viciously as he watched the woman’s cool and calculating criminal persona take the reins, her face becoming an impassive shield. Altan was definitely her client. The question was, had she known about his indiscretions before this moment?

“I’m sorry Raymond, I can’t give you a client’s location.” Rosalie spoke, her voice aloof, belying a calm she did not feel.

“Rosalie you can’t be serious, this man killed one of my people.”

Her eyes softened, “And for that, you have my empathy. I will do everything I can to help you catch the man, just not at the expense of my network.”

An anger Red knew was somewhat unreasonable reared its ugly head. He had been worried about this code of hers since that night in New York, and now the issue had come to pass.

“Your empathy?” Reddington’s voice was dangerously soft. “I don’t think you understand what it means, an attack like this, on an organization like mine.”

It took quite a lot to push the man to the point where his anger showed, but Rosalie’s seeming indifference had somehow taken him there in a matter of minutes. Months’ worth of tension which had been building between the two came to a boiling point as the formidable opponents faced off, airing their grievances.

“I’ve been in this world long enough to know it’s likely a shot over the bow, Raymond. One for which you will need _allies_ to overcome.” The woman’s ire was roaring beneath the surface, “I can’t provide you safe harbour if my business goes under for betraying the agreement I have with my clients.”

“You’re putting your own profit before justice for a man who was murdered in cold blood.” He viciously accused.

“No,” Rosalie insisted, her retort snapping like a mousetrap. “I am putting this network above your need for immediate and violent retribution. My network, which is utilized by _you_ and hundreds of others. You’re asking me to compromise my organization, to put my people in danger.”

She couldn’t believe he was being so unreasonable. Rosalie could state categorically and for a fact, Raymond wouldn’t blow such a hole in his own organization. Why on earth would he ask her to do so?

The air in the room suddenly crackled with a terrible tension. Both parties stood stock still, staring at each other in anger and disbelief.

Red’s deep drawl echoed in the room. “So, like every other criminal, your loyalty is to yourself. I must confess, Rosalie, I find myself disappointed.” The comment cracked through the air like a whip.

Rosalie’s expression was icy. The fact that Reddington was calling her loyalty into question was obviously causing the woman no small degree of pain.

Her usually gentle voice seared like acid as it rippled through the room. “Raymond what you don’t realize is that in the past three months our worlds have become so entwined, I don’t know where yours ends and mine begins. Yes, my loyalty is to my network. You, Dembe, your entire organization are all part of that now. _You are my network_!”

A deafening silence filled the room at Rosalie’s statement. Both parties were quietly fuming, rallying their nerves for the next round.

Horace realized with a jolt that they made quite the pair, vicious snarling criminals that they were. Both held roaring tempers in perfect check, allowing their razor sharp minds to do the battling for them. It was interesting to see the two hurling barbs at each other that would cut grown men off at the knees, while neither combatant allowed so much as a twitch in response to their opponent’s goading.

The young woman took a shuddering breath, stormy grey eyes locking with Reddington’s. “ _Dammit_ _Raymond_ , I’m not going to let you burn down your house for the sake of killing one rat.”

Without another word, Rosalie turned on her heel and left the lounge, slamming the door behind her. Furious to the point of potentially saying something particularly nasty, she had opted instead to remove herself from the situation. The woman snatched a trench from the coat closet before stepping out into the night, intent on cooling her roaring temper.

Her guard remained, feeling the need to explain. “Just...give her a bit to cool off.” he told Reddington, “You’ve stoked her temper to an inferno, and she’s only walked away to make sure that acid tongue of hers doesn’t ruin your friendship.”

“Did she know about Altan?” Red asked pointedly, needing to know the depth of her betrayal.

“No.” said Horace confidently, “Altan has been in the network longer than you have. He became a client sometime last spring. He’s a regular in Munich, stays in the secondary safehouse at least once a month.”

The information was met with a curt nod as Reddington moodily poured himself a glass of scotch.

“You should go,” suggested Dembe, “Rosalie shouldn’t be walking the streets alone.”

The bodyguards shared a quick glance, both conveying they would do their best to salvage the separate parts of the whole. Horace then turned to follow his charge out into the darkened streets.

Dembe swivelled placidly to look at Raymond. His eyes were cold and hard as they stared him down.

The guard understood, Raymond considered this issue a test of Rosalie’s loyalty, which the man felt she was failing miserably. Dembe, however, knew this couldn’t be further from the truth. The young innkeeper was infinitely loyal, she was merely struggling to trust Raymond with what was essentially the lifeblood of her empire. They hadn’t yet reached the point in their partnership where they had to place such a blind trust in one another. Now, it would seem that outside influences had forced them to a crossroads.

It was obvious that Raymond and Rosalie cared for one another.

They had become accustomed to their new arrangement and found they enjoyed it immensely. Dembe knew Raymond was upset because this apparent disloyalty indicated he could not trust the woman he had grown so fond of.

Dembe didn’t need to be clairvoyant to know the young innkeeper felt the same way. The woman sought his happiness and comfort above all else. Rosalie was naturally kind and affectionate, yes, but those traits took on a new meaning where Raymond was concerned. Dembe doubted there was anything she would deny Reddington.

The bodyguard held his smile in check as he realized the two were not fighting about the Patrick situation at all.

Raymond was concerned about loyalty.

Rosalie was concerned about trust.

If Dembe could get the man to see that her hesitation had nothing to do with disloyalty and everything to do with her feeling vulnerable, he knew Raymond would allow the disagreement to blow over.

He voiced his opinion. “I think you’ve mistaken Rosalie’s hesitation for disloyalty.

“I think you’re being naïve.” snapped Red, his temper getting the better of him. It seemed he may have already lost Rosalie, he didn’t need Dembe turning on him too.

The younger man quietly pulled up a seat next to Raymond, staring determinedly at him. When the man’s legs were crossed and his scotch back in hand, Dembe spoke again.

“Horace and I, our job is to look out for you and Rosalie. This means we see a great deal of things that the two of you miss.  Do you know what we’ve seen?”

“No” grumbled Reddington, “but I’m sure you’ll enlighten me regardless.”

Dembe’s dark eyes held his, “We see how well you work together. How Rosalie’s every move is meant to bring you comfort, how you make every effort to guide her toward safe business decisions. Your association has grown into a genuine friendship, which is an incredibly rare gift.”

“I would argue her hesitation indicates the feeling is not mutual.”

The younger man couldn’t withhold a small smile at Red’s sullen tone.

Finally, they had gotten down to the truth behind the man’s anger. Raymond knew full well his attachment to Rosalie already ran deep, and the thought that she may not be of the same mind was painful for him.

Dembe’s tone was soothing, “Rosalie is hesitating to give you her client list because it makes her incredibly _vulnerable,_ Raymond; a state which you yourself do everything in your power to avoid. It has nothing to do with loyalty.”

Reddington was about to argue his point when the young man cut him off.

“Imagine if she were to demand you give her the location of your document forger. How many of your clients would be put in danger by dispersing that knowledge? Can you say without question you would trust her with such sensitive information this early into your alliance?”

Another deafening silence met this question. Raymond’s face was set in a scowl, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek irritably.

Dembe continued, “She is looking at you and seeing a man she has known for three months. A man she has been working with, that she’s been building a business relationship with, but who is ultimately still new and intimidating.”

“I haven’t given her a single reason to distrust me.” barked Red, the very notion of the young woman thinking him untrustworthy felt like a slap in the face.

“No, you haven’t.” Dembe agreed, “But the kind of trust you are asking her to show takes years to cultivate. You are asking her to confide in you the very foundations of her business, her life.”

The man paused for a moment and considered Dembe’s words. Would he have responded in the same fashion were he in her shoes? His inner criminal responded with an emphatic ‘yes’.

The overwhelming realization hit him that he had crossed a line with his young business partner.

Dembe smiled as he saw understanding dawn on Raymond’s face.

“I have no doubt that Rosalie would give you your man.” the bodyguard’s voice cut through his employer’s musings. “In order to do so, she needs know she can trust you with that information. If any of her clients were to find out, her entire network would become useless. Her clientele would no longer be able to trust _her_ . That would not only put them at risk, it would put Rosalie at risk, it would put her people at risk, and it would put _your_ organization at risk.”

The truth of the man’s words seemed to click into place. In Red’s frenzy to find and neutralize the threat outside of his organization, he had thoroughly rocked the boat within it. Rosalie’s hesitation was about protecting Raymond just as much as herself.

“Well, now I have another problem,” sighed Raymond, “What do I do about Rosalie?” He understood the mistake would need to be rectified as soon as possible.

“She will be back,” Dembe reminded, “Horace assured us as much. She just needed a moment to cool down.”

The man smiled softly, reaching for the scotch to refill Red’s glass. “As it turns out, she has quite the temper. Like someone else I know.”

Reddington chuckled dryly, “Yes, well, I can take a little constructive criticism.”

Red thought back to his argument with Rosalie and found himself rather impressed with the woman’s moxie. There were grown men that would back down from an argument with Raymond Reddington, yet the little spitfire had not shrank in the slightest. Instead, she insolently planted her little feet and shouted him down. It was a rare experience for the man, encountering someone truly capable of standing toe to toe with him.

Raymond looked around the room, suddenly feeling the loss of the young innkeeper. The house already somehow felt colder, less comfortable without her there.

“What do I say when she comes back?” he asked Dembe, his voice a gravelly rumble.

Dembe rose from his seat, intent on leaving the two to sort things out. “Be honest. She wants to trust you; give her a reason to do so.” The young man added, “And you need to explain to her _why_ her loyalty is so important to you.”

The older man’s eyes softened at the advice. “Sometimes, Dembe, I think you have a better grasp on this humanity thing than the rest of us.”

“That’s my job.” said Dembe, smiling as he left the lounge.

***************************************************

_Munich Square_

Rosalie’s heeled boots hit the cobbled streets at a steady clip. Her stomach was still roiling in anger as she shrugged into her trench. She focused on her breathing, willing her mind to quiet its incessant replay of her argument with Raymond. Rosalie was still shocked at the altercation and what it had revealed.

The man thought her disloyal, a cardinal sin in their world. She knew there was no truth to the accusation. Rosalie had known Altan was a contract killer, but she’d had no idea the man was responsible for the death of one of Raymond’s associates. The woman would have given him up before he even reached the safehouse.

Why then, did it bother Rosalie so much when Red had asked her to divulge the man’s location?

Her inner criminal found the answer to be quite obvious. She valued her empire as a symbol of the life she had built. The young woman had spent most of her early years hearing what everyone else thought she should and shouldn’t be. Becoming a criminal had been like stepping into her true self, and becoming involved with Reddington had been like coming home. Their arrangement had brought everything full circle in an unbelievably short amount of time. Now, she couldn’t imagine being a criminal without him. The man’s attempt to push her for information that could capsize their boat had both angered and upset her.

Her hesitation had nothing to do with loyalty and everything to do with trust. She hadn’t known Raymond long enough to divulge something capable of so much damage.

Yet, she thought, the man had never given her a reason to distrust him. Not one single reason. Rosalie suddenly felt sheepish for even thinking she could not rely on him with something so important.

Really, was all of this worth losing him? Rosalie hadn’t stopped to fully consider the fact that Raymond Reddington, somewhere in their dealings, had become a very dear friend.

Regardless of what she had told Horace, Rosalie knew there were feelings flickering within her which extended beyond an innocent friendship with Raymond Reddington.

Was she willing to give up what they had built simply because she was afraid to trust someone so deeply? The very notion of allowing fear to control her business decisions was unlike Rosalie. Her scowl deepened as she considered the danger of allowing herself such a shortcoming.

In the distance, Horace smiled, having finally found his charge. He sidled up to her as she was standing at the edge of Munich Square, near the alley where Patrick died. The woman was huddled in on herself, mouth moving wordlessly as she mumbled her grievances to the night.

The gesture made the man chuckle; mumbling had always been a nervous tick of hers.

Horace could sympathize with the woman’s nerves. She adored the Concierge of Crime, try though she did to hide it.

In truth, the bodyguard had never encountered someone who spoke to Rosalie’s spirit the way Reddington did. He seemed to know her, inside and out, effortlessly. The woman could deny it all she wanted, but Horace knew Rosalie could see much more in Raymond Reddington, too.

That was why she had responded so viscerally to the man’s accusations. To have felt such a connection, only for him to try and bully sensitive information from her, it had shaken the woman to her core.

“Go home, Horace.” Rosalie’s voice was cold and steady as she turned to look at him.

He gave her a wry smile, his dark eyes softening, “Not without you, I’m not. In case you’ve forgotten, there’s a murderer on the loose.”

The woman’s jaw twitched, “Well it seems the murderer is in my home, or one of them anyway. Frankly, I feel there’s little to fear on the streets of Munich tonight.”

Her bodyguard’s eyebrows rose imperiously, her retort still held a sharp bite to it.

“I know you’re upset,” he soothed, “But you and Reddington aren’t going to fall out over this.”

“I don’t know, Horace. Did you see how angry he was?”

The guard laughed, his smooth voice bringing a calmness to the proceedings. “Yes, he certainly didn’t flinch away from you, you little hell-cat. I think that’s a first.”

“What’s a first?” she asked, turning to continue her walk.

Horace fell in line beside her, his voice teasing, “I think that’s the first time you’ve had an opponent worthy of your prowess.”

The woman let out a derisive laugh, “Yes, I guess so. That’s me, the frigid criminal who’s too much for anyone to contend with.” Her tone was light, but Horace could sense the hurt behind it.

“I meant that you’ve finally found someone of your calibre. You and Reddington, you have much in common. You balance each other well.”

Rosalie’s brows rose irritably at this, her eyes turning to look at Horace with mild incredulity.

“Well, _usually_ , you balance each other well.” he amended with a laugh, “I think that’s why the altercation bothered you so much.”

His charge kept silent, walking diligently across the square.

“I know, it makes you nervous to trust the man,” Horace conceded, reaching out to grab her shoulder, halting her progress. “But you know, you’re going to have to trust someone at some point. Why not him?”

“Were you not the one who just this morning lectured me to be careful with him?” she snapped grumpily.

A knowing smile lit Horace’s features. “Yeah, but that was before I saw him pick a fight with you. Honestly Rosalie, the two of you need to solidify your little alliance as soon as possible; because I don’t think anyone else could contend with you two.”

Rosalie realized with a jolt that Horace was right. She and Raymond needed to reach such a level of trust, for the sake of their business association at least.

She also realized that one of them would have to extend the gesture first.

…Why not her?

The dark grey eyes that usually held so much mirth and mischief were filled with fear and anxiety as they turned on Horace. Rosalie was afraid. Looking at where they had arrived, the guard could understand why.

Rosalie’s feet had made the decision for her, carrying her to her destination without thought. She glared fixedly at the house on the end of the street, her stride purposeful as she came up to the gate and slammed the buzzer.

“Altan, it’s Alder, we need to talk.”

*******************************************************************************

It was the wee hours of the morning before Rosalie returned to the safehouse.

Raymond was still in the lounge. His anger had abated, and hearing the little woman walk back into the house was a relief. Red considered going out and apologizing. After speaking with Dembe, he understood it was asking too much of her to potentially put a hole in her own business. They could wait until Patrick’s killer was outside of Rosalie’s network to get him.

The woman in question stepped into the doorway as Reddington stood. Her windswept blonde tresses fell wildly over the jet black trench coat she wore. Her nose and cheeks were a rosy pink from being out in the cold.

They stared at each other a moment, unsure who should speak first.

Finally, Rosalie’s voice broke the silence. “We should wake Dembe.” she suggested, not bothering to take a seat or remove her coat.

An icy feeling crawled into Red’s stomach. Was he too late? Would their partnership be over already?

“Why would we do that?” he asked quietly, trying to read her features. The woman was all business though, wrapped in the armour of her criminal persona, and Red could garner very little from her face.

“Because we should have some kind of security with us, and I want as few people from my organization as possible to know that I’ve put our partnership before the sanctity of my network.”

It was a bold statement, and the young woman was still concerned as to whether she had made the right decision. The self-preservation mechanism that only criminals truly appreciated seemed to thrum in Rosalie’s gut, warning her not to divulge, not to trust the man before her.

Yet she found herself wanting to do so.

Criminals were forever doing business when they couldn’t truly rely on one another. Rosalie wanted to believe she could trust Raymond, and how could she do that if he didn’t feel he could hold her in the same confidence?

Reddington stood stock still, the shock written plainly on his face. Of all the scenarios he had thought of for when she returned, he did not fathom this one.

“Why?”

He couldn’t help the question, he needed to know what had changed. What had brought her back and convinced her to trust him?

“It is difficult enough, doing business with criminals one can’t possibly trust. I won’t have one sleeping under my roof. If we are going to do this, we need to know we can rely on each other completely and without question. So, I’m giving you your man.”

She pulled a small black book from her jacket pocket and strode to stand nose to nose with Raymond.

“I realized I hadn’t given you a good reason to trust in my loyalty. So here it is.” She held the book out to him, “I’m trusting you not to destroy me with this. Please don’t make me regret it.”

...A deep voice Red hadn’t thought about in years echoed inside his mind. _‘Value loyalty above all else.’_

Flabbergasted. That was the appropriate word for Raymond at that moment. He was utterly flabbergasted at the woman’s gesture of confidence.

Despite her insistence that she would not give away the names or locations of her clients, here they were. Rosalie stood before him determinedly holding an olive branch.

What Raymond did next would dictate where their partnership headed from here.

He took so long to respond, Rosalie moved to leave, thinking him too angry to bury the hatchet.

“Thank You.”

Raymond’s sincere tone was enough to make Rosalie stop in her tracks.

Reddington set the book on the desk as he stepped closer to her, taking her hand in his.

“I asked too much of you today.” He stated without preamble, “I didn’t just ask, I demanded. I demanded you do something which you said from the beginning you couldn’t do.”

The man hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He needed her to understand how important this was to him.

“I have been on the run for nearly nine years. I’ve dealt with betrayal seemingly all my life, long before I became the man you see in front of you. Yet when I became a criminal, the importance of loyalty gained a whole new meaning.” His thumb brushed soothingly back and forth over the woman’s hand, “We live in a world without law, rules, or any semblance of order. Loyalty is everything, Rosalie. It is the only commodity which can’t be bartered, bought, or traded. Not true loyalty, anyway.”

“Like Dembe.” She said softly, knowing full well the man had likely snapped at the young bodyguard earlier.

“Yes,” Raymond agreed readily, “Dembe is one of a great few. Dembe, Mr. Kaplan, and you.”

Her grey eyes snapped up to meet his, surprise written clearly in their depths.

He continued, “You are, without question, unflinchingly loyal. It was wrong of me, to insinuate otherwise. You protected me, even from my own shortcomings. You, as you so eloquently put it, refused to allow me to burn my own house to the ground. And for that, you have my loyalty and my trust.”

Raymond picked up the book and placed it gently back in Rosalie’s hand, closing her fingers over its cover. “This thing that we’ve built, it is too important to lose. We can find Altan another way.”

Rosalie stared at him in disbelief for a moment before putting the book back in her jacket pocket. It was hard to believe they’d had a spectacular argument over this topic just a few hours ago. It seemed they were both willing to set aside their issues for the sake of their partnership. The thought warmed the woman considerably, bringing a soft flush to her already rosy cheeks.

She looked sheepishly up at her business partner. “About Altan,” she murmured, “We don’t need to look for him.”

Reddington’s expression fell, concern etching his features. “What did you do?” he asked tentatively.

“That’s why I said we should wake Dembe,” she explained with a grimace, “I have him.”

Red’s green eyes widened at her. Out of every available option, that had been the last answer the man had expected.

“What do you mean, _you have him_?”

“I have him in a secure location outside of the network.” She shrugged, gesturing the man out the door.

It was the first time since she had walked in that Red had taken a close look at the woman’s right hand. The knuckles were red and one had a nasty scrape.

“You didn’t.” He groaned his disbelief.

“I did. He’s cuffed to the pipes of an abandoned warehouse of Florian’s.” She picked up Raymond’s scotch and took a sip, grimacing at the burn.

The man chastised her, “What were you thinking, going by yourself? You could have been killed.”

Rosalie smiled softly at his concern before rolling her eyes. “Not likely.” she scoffed, “Altan was an oblivious imbecile who thought every woman was crazy about him. It was painfully easy.”

She added, “And besides that, Horace was with me.”

“Where is he now?” Red asked incredulously.

“Keeping an eye on Altan. I wouldn’t just leave him chained up unsupervised.”

The two looked at each other with bemused amusement, trying to catch up to everything that had happened in the past few hours.

“Well, if you’re ready,” Red sighed, “I would like to finish this.”

The young woman smiled softly, taking his hand and guiding them out of the lounge.

*************************************************

_Florian’s Warehouse - Munich, Germany_

Dembe had been awake and waiting when Raymond and Rosalie knocked on his door. He smiled knowingly at the pair, seeing their differences resolved for the time being.

Baz was called to bring Brimley and Mr. Kaplan to the warehouse where Altan was being kept. Since the man was a contract killer, there was likely someone else behind him orchestrating the attack. Raymond needed to know who that was.

The group met at the warehouse half an hour later, following the young innkeeper into a side door of the building. Horace stood sentinel beside a figure on the floor, its head was covered with a black cloth, the arms spread eagle, cuffed to a set of pipes.

Reddington strode over and tore the cloth unceremoniously from its perch.

Rosalie watched the man at work, a shiver skirting down her spine as she heard Red’s vicious rumble.

“Hello Altan, I’m Raymond Reddington.”

The man’s eyes widened as he realized the powerful man standing over him was the employer of his last target.

“I…I…” he stammered, at a loss for what he could possibly say to save himself. His eyes rounded on Rosalie, who stood quietly between Dembe and Horace.

“You!” he snarled, pulling at the pipes uselessly. “You wait until everyone hears what you’ve done, falling into bed with this snake!” he spat, “You’ll never sign another client again!”

Red turned to look at his business partner, his eyes conveying that the man would never have the opportunity to make good on his threat.

Rosalie flashed a sweet little smile at Raymond before stepping out from the safety of their guards, her eyes narrowing darkly at her former client.

“Oh, Altan, I don’t think you’ll be saying much of anything to anyone. Knowing my friend here, I can trust you won’t leave this warehouse alive.”

The man gulped visibly, his nerves beginning to show as Reddington tilted his head and smiled at the innkeeper.

Rosalie swaggered across the room, coming level with Raymond’s side and placing her arm on the man’s shoulder. “You see, you didn’t just attack Raymond Reddington, you attacked me by association. That’s reason enough for me to terminate your contract.”

Horace and Dembe smiled knowingly at the pair, seeing their prior disagreement dissolve before their eyes.

“And I didn’t fall into bed with him,” Rosalie added, her voice positively lethal as she turned to glare at Altan, “ _I made the bed and beckoned him to it._ ”

Raymond wrapped a possessive arm around the woman’s hips, allowing a confident smirk to grace his features as Altan’s mouth hung open in shock.

************************************************************************************************

_The Glass Flat - Munich, Germany_

Having left Brimley to work on Altan, Raymond and Rosalie headed back to the comfort of the safehouse with Dembe and Horace. Baz had remained as security for Kate and Brimley.

The two criminals were exhausted. The sun was just beginning to creep over the horizon as they filed into the safehouse, intent on getting some sleep.

Raymond had just settled into his room when a soft tap issued from the door.

Rosalie stood in her cashmere sweater and dark jeans, silently asking permission to enter.

Red’s soft smile beckoned her into the room.

She padded up to his side of the bed, holding out the little black book from earlier.

“Rosalie, I told you, I don’t need to see the list.” he insisted, refusing to take the item.

“I want you to.” she said softly, pushing it back towards him. “I don’t want this to happen again. Would you please look at it so we know what other problems may be lurking in the network?”

Raymond’s eyes softened considerably, a warm, genuine smile gracing his features. He took the small book, then reached over and patted the space next to him just as Rosalie had done a few nights prior.

A knowing smile crossed the woman’s face as she climbed onto the bed with him. Instead of threading his fingers through her hair as she always did to him, Raymond reached over and wrapped his arm around the woman’s shoulders.

Rosalie was pleased and surprised as he pulled her tight to him, his warm body enveloping her. Without hesitating, she nestled her head against the man’s broad chest, a sigh of contentment escaping her lips. It was terribly comfortable, being curled up with him. Rosalie found her eyes getting heavy as she listened to Raymond’s deep, soothing drawl.

He flipped through the list, commenting on the various clients, good, bad, or surprising, and made marks next to the ones that could be issues. He had found three when a throaty chuckle escaped his lips.

“Now, how on earth did you manage to get the head of the Sinaloa cartel into your shenanigans?”

Rosalie giggled tiredly, “Oh he’s an old favourite, calls me his little flamingo.”

“Hold on, that sounds like a story I need to hear.” he purred playfully, setting the book on the nightstand, all but forgotten.

Rosalie’s small hand came to rest on Red’s chest, playing idly with a button on his crisp white shirt. “I’ll tell you when I’m not half asleep.” she yawned, “It’s a good one, I want to do it justice.”

Another deep rumble of amusement vibrated against her skin as Raymond settled deeper into the pillows, adjusting his grip on the young innkeeper.

“I’ll hold you to that.” he murmured, his thumb caressing her hip tenderly.

“As long as you hold me.” the sleepy woman mumbled teasingly as she burrowed deeper into his side.

The statement and the woman’s nuzzling stoked something primal in Raymond, the desire to shelter her little body with his became overwhelming as he cuddled her close.

*************************************************

Dembe walked past Raymond’s room some time later to see the door ajar. He could hear the soft sounds of the man’s breathing and was not surprised to see him sleeping slouched against the pillows. What _was_ surprising was the presence of a certain young innkeeper. Red had his arm wrapped protectively around Rosalie’s feminine frame, his large hand palming her hip possessively. The woman’s head was nestled against his chest, her own arm wrapped tightly about the man’s torso.

The sight brought a knowing smile to the bodyguard’s face. His hunch had been correct. There was more to their friendship than the two realized. Dembe carefully and silently closed the door, giving them their privacy before tiptoeing to his room.

Within the confines of the cool, dark bedroom, Raymond and Rosalie continued to doze peacefully in the warmth of each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I love writing for Brimley...


	10. Should & Shouldn’t

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: ‘Woman’ by Mumford and Sons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO much for your patience, I have been off the grid and writing this chapter on my phone, so please pardon any spelling or grammatical mistakes. I will re-edit this once I’m back in the states. I am hoping to get two chapters out this week since I was behind on this one. I hope you enjoy it and as always, thanks for commenting! U/D: 5/29/19 - This chapter has been edited as promised :)

_The Glass Flat Safehouse - Munich, Germany - November 1998_

Raymond woke to sleet pelting the windows of the dark bedroom. The curtains were drawn, but he could tell by the gaps in their folds that it was already dark outside.

It took a great deal of trust to sleep alongside someone, to allow them into one’s sphere when it was so completely unguarded. It was the kind of vulnerability Raymond tried to avoid as a general principle. And yet, here he was, having slept for hours ensconced in the arms of his business partner.

Glancing surreptitiously down at his chest, Red found the woman still fast asleep. He had turned at some point, one arm wrapping around the small of her back, the other cradling her head to his chest.

Rosalie didn’t seem to mind the proximity. Her arms were wrapped tightly around Red’s torso, her small hands pressed into his back, keeping him close. A slender leg had draped over his, wedging his muscular thigh between hers. The woman’s breath fell softly against his neck, the gentle sound nearly lulling him back under.

Truthfully, Raymond rather enjoyed how tightly she was wrapped around him. It had been too long since the man had a woman in his bed for anything beyond the occasional dalliance. Far too long. He had forgotten how it could feel, being held and caressed by gentle hands. It touched a raw corner of his soul, awakening something vital, something he’d been missing.

Suddenly, holding the woman in such a way felt terribly intimate.

What had come over him? Why was he cuddling her so close?

More importantly, why did she stay? Why was she clutching him just as tightly?

Red’s mind trekked back several hours to when Rosalie had given him her client list. Her eyes had been so soft, so trusting as she held out the little black book.

Reddington hadn’t wanted her token of good faith to change anything, yet it had. The gesture had told Raymond everything, had laid Rosalie’s character bare before him. With one fell swoop, she had garnered his hard-won trust and unyielding loyalty. After the unmitigated mess with Patrick’s death and their ensuing argument, all Red had wanted to do in that moment was take her in his arms.

A rush of nerves made him tighten his hold on the little waist without warning, accidentally waking the woman.

Rosalie sighed and stretched languidly in his embrace. Her small hands moving slowly up and down the expanse of Red’s back, drawing gentle circles that made the man hum. He relaxed into the soothing touch, knowing she couldn’t feel the burn scars beneath his layers of clothing.

Rosalie’s lips twitched as her eyes flickered open, taking in her surroundings. “What time is it?”

Reddington lifted his arm, squinting at his watch in the low light. “6:30” he rumbled, his hand dropping to run featherlight along the woman’s torso. He watched avidly as his fingertips traced the curves of her waist and hips, eliciting a soft mew from his counterpart. Her hands hadn’t stopped stroking his back. Emboldened by his touch, they moved to roam his shoulders as well.

Raymond found himself enjoying the innocent petting session immensely.  _This_ was what he had been missing.

Rosalie seemed to be of the same mind, her body erupting in goosebumps as Raymond’s fingertips skimmed a teasing trail along her ribcage. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed the comfort of a man until he had drawn her into his embrace. Now, in the dark, the man’s scent and gentle caress combined to envelope her in an overwhelming feeling of contentment.

All too soon, a quiet knock interrupted the sanctity of their comfortable cocoon.

“Maybe if we don’t answer, he’ll go away.” Red’s sleep-addled drawl ghosted across Rosalie’s neck, coaxing a muffled giggle from the warm bundle in his arms. His hand continued stroking her torso as the knock sounded again.

“This is Dembe we’re talking about,” Rosalie whispered, “He sees right through our ploys.”

“We could play dead?” Raymond suggested, looking for any excuse to prolong the moment when they would have to return to reality.

“What terrible suggestions, Raymond. Are you sure you run a criminal empire?” She chided, garnering a deep chuckle from him.

The knock sounded again, more insistently. The pair’s eyes met with a kind of anxious disappointment.

“...We could hide in the secret compartment in the closet?” Rosalie offered quietly, a last ditch effort to postpone the inevitable.

However, seconds later, the bedroom door opened, casting a yellow ray of light onto the bed. A smooth voice issued from the gap in the door.

“Raymond, it’s Brimley.”

A sigh escaped Red’s mouth as he released his hold on the woman. Leaving the comfort of the bed, he strode over to Dembe and took the burner phone.

“Mr.Brimley, I take it our friend is ready?”

Ted’s foghorn voice caused Raymond to hold the phone at arms length as he responded. “The blowtorch ran out of gas, but not before he broke! I know where his grandmother hides her money, Boss, but he’s got no idea who hired him. Completely anonymous transaction!”

A growl issued from Raymond’s chest as he ran a hand over his face. His fears were all but confirmed. Such an anonymous transaction was an indicator of a much larger attack on his operation. He would have to squeeze all available information from Altan and attempt to get one step ahead of his attacker.

Red looked at the young woman occupying his bed. She rested on her elbows, listening intently to Brimley’s booming voice as it echoed into the room. A frown marred her features as her mind worked through the new intel.

“Thank you Mr. Brimley, we will be there shortly.”

Reddington closed the phone, handing it back to Dembe and instructing him to have the car brought around.

The young man nodded, leaving the pair in the quiet room. Their quiet sanctum was broken, however. The man and woman looked ruefully at each other, an unspoken agreement forming between them.

They wouldn’t discuss what had happened in Raymond’s bed.

Both had needed comfort and sought it in each other. That was all. Discussing the matter would only lead to the question of what was brewing between them. Because they both knew there was something there now, something that hadn’t existed hours earlier. Or at least, they hadn’t believed it existed.

Red broke the silence, steering the conversation toward safe waters. “I want you carrying a weapon from now on.” He stated, holding out a hand. Rosalie took it and slid gracefully from the bed, “You should have been carrying one from the beginning. Not just those little blades.” A half-smile flitted across his features. He was teasing her, trying to lighten the mood.

Rosalie laughed softly, “Those were quite effective if I recall.”

“Yes,” Raymond admitted, “Only in close range, though. I’d prefer you be able to protect yourself from a safe distance.” His thumb traced the back of her hand gently as he spoke, “I can provide you with a gun and ammo if you don’t have one.”

Rosalie smirked and headed for the master closet. Pulling a hidden key from the door frame, she proceeded to open the back wall. A hidden space similar to the one in New York opened to her, and she hopped to perch herself on the compartment’s edge.

An identical smirk graced Red’s face as he followed her into the room. He stood eye level with her as she shifted through the hidden trove of paraphernalia.

Finally, she located a large black tactical box, which she tugged to the opening’s edge. Flipping the catch, Rosalie swung the lid open to reveal an assortment of firearms and ammo.

Red chuckled, “You’ve had these all this time and haven’t been carrying? What happened to the one in São Paulo?”

She shrugged, “I was on the run. Once I wasn’t running from this Concierge of Crime fellow, I didn’t feel it was necessary to have it on me.”

“You are a criminal; you are  _always_ on the run. It is  _always_ _necessary_. I don’t want you leaving the house without one from now on. Understood?” Raymond’s tone brooked no argument.

The young woman nodded, a small smile twitching at her lips for his concern.

Red pulled a Browning Hi-Power from the bunch, recognizing his preferred weapon of choice. He quirked an eyebrow at Rosalie who grinned impishly. “Always be prepared for a client’s needs.” she reasoned.

“Isn’t that the Boy Scout motto?” He joked, earning a giggle from his counterpart. Red also pulled a Colt .45 1911 from the group, some spare clips for each gun, and a couple boxes of ammo. He closed the case with a snap, allowing Rosalie to tuck it back in its hiding spot.

As she turned to climb out of the space, Raymond wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her bodily from the compartment. A stifled squeak of surprise issued from the little woman as he settled her on her feet. She blushed slightly at the renewed proximity before Red’s hand met the small of her back, gently shooing her out of the closet.

Divesting the guns, ammo, and clips onto the bed, he organized them by firearm.

“Browning, Hi-Power, 9mm single action. Powerful, reliable, and accurate. 9mm is one of the most common ammos available, making it easy to keep loaded on the go. This is going to be your day-to-day weapon.” He explained, loading the clip and handing the firearm to her so she could feel its weight. He filled two more clips for the Browning before picking up the Colt. “Colt .45 1911, single action, has a bit more kick to it. Keep this as a mean back-up. I’ve loaded copper hollow points for this, they’re meant for heavy damage.” He loaded the second gun and handed it to the woman, allowing her to get more acquainted with both.

“How comfortable are you firing?” He asked, watching her examine the firearms.

Rosalie tilted her head back and forth, “Reasonably comfortable, but there’s always room for improvement.” She held the Browning up, feeling the weight in the shooting position.

Red smiled softly, “I’ll take you out in the next day or two and we’ll work on your technique.”

Rosalie beamed appreciatively, “I’ll need to get a couple holsters for these.”

A thought came to Raymond and he turned to grab one of his bags.

The suitcase was an old-fashioned globe-trotter, its leather showing the wear and tear of age and use. The brass finishes still shone brightly against the black leather as Red spun the combination locks until the clasps sprung open with a snap. The interior was a soft cream color with dark black straps.

Old and new photos were tucked carefully in the lid. A photo of a slightly younger Dembe in a graduation cap beamed up at her. It was tucked alongside a picture of Red and Kate on a sun-drenched balcony, as well as another with Dembe in a bakery, a sweet looking old lady in an apron between him and Raymond. Older photos contained a young woman with red hair, and a separate photo of the same woman, then blonde, in a swing with a little girl.

Rosalie wondered who they were. Did Red once have a child, a wife? The woman’s insides squirmed at the thought. She couldn’t really reconcile the Concierge of Crime with the very domestic life she imagined involving the woman and the little girl. Realizing she was staring, Rosalie turned her head before she could be caught.

From the confines of the suitcase, Red pulled out a series of dark leather straps. Closing the luggage and setting it aside, he held up the chestnut colored straps for her to examine.

“These holsters,” he commented, “are easy to hide on a woman.” He shifted the straps so Rosalie could see it was meant to criss-cross over her shoulders. The holster was Raymond’s, but he had long since developed a preference for the one he kept at the small of his back. The shoulder harness was perfect for Rosalie, who often wore skirts and dresses as well as slacks. It would give her the ability to carry no matter what she wore.

Raymond wrapped his arms around her, guiding each hand through the straps as he continued explaining. “Your waist dips in from your bust while your hips curve outward, creating a natural hollow. That hollow is ideal for hiding guns and ammo.”

Rosalie shrugged the item on, listening intently. Red stopped, eyeing the fit critically, smirking because he hadn’t realized how much broader he was than her. The holsters which were supposed to be up by her waist were dangling near the woman’s pelvis.

The man’s fingertips skirted her shoulder blades as he reached behind her, adjusting the straps. Rosalie leaned into him, giving him better access. When the last strap was settled into place with a soft  _click,_ Raymond reluctantly moved so she could see the result.

Rosalie let out a surprised gasp as she looked in the large mirror at the foot of the bed. The holster was tucked perfectly in the dip of her waist on her left side. The right side sat parallel to it, holding holsters for two clips.

A ghost of a grin appeared on Raymond’s face. The holster looked better on her than it ever had on him. He picked up the Browning, reloaded the clip and tucked it into the holster for her, his knuckles just grazing her ribcage. The pair loaded the two spare clips, inserting them into their appropriate slots.

Rosalie felt the weight added to her frame but it wasn’t uncomfortable. They then loaded the Colt; Red attempted to secure it to her ankle, but upon further inspection, found an ankle strap holding one of her razor sharp knives already there. He had looked up at her chuckling at the discovery, and conceded to the thigh holster she owned for now. They would find her a more discrete option shortly.

Looking like a little rebel fighter, Rosalie reached on her tiptoes to kiss Raymond‘s cheek. “Thank you” she said softly, her eyes meeting his for a moment before heading to change her clothes.

As he watched the little woman flounce out of the bedroom, Raymond made a mental note to get her a jacket like his. It would make carrying that much fire power infinitely easier.

And he was convinced she would look adorable in it.

The man brought a hand to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a chuckle and an exasperated sigh. Nothing could come of him and Rosalie, he knew that, but it was a terribly pleasant idea.

***************************************************************************

 _Florian’s Warehouse - Munich, Germany_

Half an hour later, the group headed into the warehouse where the rest of the team and their captive were waiting. Red sent Kate’s group back to their safehouse with Otto, leaving Raymond, Dembe, Horace, and Rosalie with Altan.

Red wasted no time in grilling Altan for every detail of the person who had hired him. Altan provided dates, transactions, currencies, phone numbers, anything that Reddington thought could give him an indication of who ordered the hit.

Rosalie sat perched on an abandoned desk nearby, listening to Altan’s answers. She didn’t understand how he could be so stupid as to pick a fight with Raymond Reddington. She hadn’t even known who Red was when he came looking for her, and she had taken to ground rather than confront him. Whomever ordered the hit would have to be equally stupid or an actual threat to Raymond.

The man had just asked Horace and Dembe to bring the car around when chaos rained down on the warehouse. The guards had been gone two minutes, when Red had stood up to speak with Rosalie. A shot ricocheted off the wall six inches from the man’s head.

“Get down!” Red bellowed, taking cover behind a massive filing cabinet.

Rosalie flipped backward, right off the edge of the desk, tucking herself safely behind its bulk. Shots poured into the warehouse at a deafening volume. Windows shattered, pipes burst, and the office furniture was torn to shreds as the projectiles ripped through them.

Rosalie looked up at Raymond, seeing the shock and confusion she felt mirrored in his eyes.

 _Who the hell was shooting at them? Who knew they were here?_

One of the burst pipes was pouring thick steam out onto the filing cabinets where Raymond stood. He used the cover to make his way over to Rosalie, taking shelter behind the desk with her.

“I counted four shooters,” he murmured, “one on the stairs leading to the foreman’s office, one in the door leading to the back alley, and two coming through the truck bay.

Rosalie nodded her agreement, “I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine?” She asked, putting her left arm around the man’s waist. Red nodded back, mirroring her grasp.

“One,”

“Two,”

“Three!”

The pair popped out from behind their hiding spot, one arm still securely wrapped around the other’s middle, guns blazing.

They fired shot after shot, carefully taking out their assailants. Red dropped the shooter in the back alley entrance while Rosalie sent the man atop the stairs falling to the floor with a sickening crunch. Their shots drove the two in the truck bay back just in time for them both to be hit by Horace driving the town car. Their bodies went flying, hitting the opposite wall with identical thuds.

The bodyguards leapt from vehicle, rushing to cover their charges.

It was then that Red noticed the wet spot blooming on his shirt. He thought it odd, he didn’t remember getting shot. He must have, though, as the left side of his shirt was turning bright red. He looked confusedly at the spot before realizing that was not  _his_ blood.

Rosalie stood looking just as surprised as he was. A stray bullet had snuck between their sides, singing a tear in Raymond shirt and nicking Rosalie’s hip in the process.

“Oh,” she whispered, still surprised. She glanced at Raymond, suddenly a little light-headed. “Well, that can’t be good…”

Reddington scooped her up in his arms, shouting at their guards to take them to Mr. Kaplan. The men jumped into the front of the vehicle, revving the engine and speeding off into the night. Horace tore through the streets of Munich to the other safehouse, all the while listening to Rosalie’s insistence that  _‘It’s only a flesh wound,’_ and,  _‘Honestly Horace, I don’t pay the Munich police enough to ignore your blatant speeding, slow down!’_

A long ten minutes later, they finally made it to the safehouse, where Horace took the bleeding woman from Raymond and hurtled inside.

*************************************************

 _The Bluebell Villa - Madrid, Spain - December 1998_

It had been three weeks since the altercation at Florian’s warehouse in Munich. Altan had been killed in the siege, whether on purpose or by accident remained to be seen.

None of the shooters lived to be of any use. No names, no identifying information could be found. Much to Red’s fury, the bodies had also disappeared once they arrived at the city morgue in Munich. Someone had come to collect them, ensuring he could not garner any information from the corpses.

The trail for who ordered the hit on Patrick had gone stone cold. Reddington had advised his people to continue operations but to lie low. The search continued for the mystery assailant, but without any actionable information, they were hunting in the dark.

The bullet which had grazed Rosalie left a two-inch tear in the woman’s hip. Kate had agreed it was merely a flesh wound. However, that had not stopped the men, Florian in particular, from getting bent out of shape about it.

Rosalie had insisted on carrying on the same as always, not taking a moment to recoup. Her refusal to take five minutes to recover was culminating that night in a charity event she was attending in Florian’s stead. She had just changed the bandages on her hip and donned her gown for the evening when she made her way to the villa’s first floor.

A pair of green eyes watched her has she descended the stairs. “Rosalie, you look even more ravishing than usual.” Raymond purred, eyeing the cut of her gown.

It was obviously a custom piece, made specifically for the purpose of hugging the woman’s curves, which Red believed it accomplished spectacularly. The dress had a sweetheart neckline which cupped the swell of her breasts tantalizingly, making the man’s pulse race. The fabric was a turbulent grey mixed with midnight blue, the exact colour of a stormy night. It was very becoming on her, making those mischievous grey eyes sparkle an almost oceanic blue. An intricate silver chain completed the look, draped daintily around her neck and holding a startling white fire opal.

“I’m stuck attending Marcelo’s shindig in Florian’s place.” She grumbled, “I’m not even allowed a plus one.”

Reddington beamed at her. “You know Marcelo? I was under the impression he only preferred men.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, “Know this from personal experience, Raymond? And here I’ve been thinking you were the epitome of the alpha male.”

The man chuckled at the barb, shaking his head as she left with her guards.

The moment he heard their car start, Raymond made a beeline for the burner phone.

Dembe’s eyes looked stonily at him over his teacup, already knowing what the man was up to.

“Marcelo! How are the Pomeranians?” Red chimed jovially upon the man answering.

“Oh I’m sure they look darling…You know, I’m in town at the moment and thought I would see if you are available for dinner and a little shop talk...”

Dembe sighed exasperatedly at Raymond who pursed his lips and waved him off.

“A party you say?...”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to impose...”

“Are you sure?...”

“You are an absolute dear, Marcelo. I’ll see you in 20.”

Red snapped the phone shut and looked peevishly at Dembe. “Don’t give me that look, you’ll still have the night off. I just need a ride to Marcelo’s first.”

The young man rose stoically, his expression one of distinct disgruntlement.

“Party pooper” Raymond groused, heading to pull his tux from the closet.

It had been a few weeks since Red and Rosalie had one of their late night excursions, and the man found he was missing them dearly. A night out at Marcelo’s would be just the ticket, and once he found out the location, he couldn’t resist. Imagining the deep amusement that would flood Rosalie’s face upon his arrival gave the man an extra bounce in his step as he readied for the evening.

Twenty minutes later, Dembe pulled the town car into the drive of a magnificent villa on the opposite hill from the safehouse. Marcelo greeted Raymond warmly, the host’s flamboyant suit clashing spectacularly with Red’s neat tux. The men promised to meet up and talk business later that night, a promise which Raymond fully expected the man to conveniently forget.

There was a spectacular band at the far end of the room playing 50’s era crooners and big band swing. The expansive ballroom held a balcony aloft at each end, dotted with small tables for socializing guests.

The Concierge of Crime scanned the room carefully, looking for his target. He located her after a few minutes, finding her dancing with a well-known arms dealer from Nicaragua. She was nodding stiffly to whatever the man was saying, eyebrows slightly furrowed in annoyance.

Considering that his cue, Raymond moved expertly to cut in on Rosalie’s dance card. Her eyes shone with stifled amusement as her previous partner skulked off to the bar.

“Oh dear, I see they’ve gone and let the riff-raff in.”

“They certainly did, I’m here to liven things up.”

“Thank God,” she sighed exasperatedly, “It’s been incredibly dull without you.”

He found himself hoping she meant it.

Rosalie leaned in conspiratorially, “So I take it Marcelo was amicable to your being my plus one?”

“Nonsense, I’m gate crashing.” Red intoned, spinning her out of the reach of a young man looking to cut in.

A tinkling laugh escaped Rosalie’s mouth at the man’s antics, her eyes shining fondly at her cohort. “Well, however you got here, thank you for saving me from the handsy Nicaraguan and,” she jerked her head towards the opposite end of the dance floor, “whoever that was.”

“I would have gladly escorted you for the night.” Red mentioned off-handedly.

Rosalie glanced up at him, surprised. “I didn’t think you would want to come.” she said earnestly.

“I’m always up for a party,” he smiled playfully, “A sensational woman on my arm sweetens the pot.” The man added, making her giggle as he dipped her expertly.

“Good, you can be my date from now on. Make these things less tedious.” her tone was casual, but she felt her tummy flip at her own brashness. She didn’t doubt she would be much happier having Raymond with her at these sorts of events. He was endlessly entertaining, carried himself well, and made her feel feminine, desirable even.

“I accept. However, I can’t help but notice I don’t see your firearm, young lady.” He chided teasingly. Ever since their talk in Munich, the woman had carried a gun. This evening was the first night Raymond had seen her without it.

“You didn’t see it when we first met, either.” She countered, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“Oh?” he crooned, recalling the events of that day quite clearly. “I do recall you mentioning one, but I never saw it. You could have been lying for all I know.”

A laugh erupted from the little woman, “Ah, the feminine mystique strikes again. Who knows, you might catch a glimpse of it later.”

The woman had been completely joking, but the reaction she garnered from her counterpart was quite real. Red’s eyes had turned impossibly dark, heatedly examining her features. She felt a shiver skirt down her spine as his arm tightened about her waist, spinning them again.

************************************************

Florian had arrived a little late to the party, seeking out his young protégé with a weary smile. He had lied, telling her the weather was too poor for him to come, hoping to surprise the little woman. As his bright eyes scanned the ballroom, he fell on a vision in midnight blue lace. The dress was a favourite of hers. The blue gown was like a sea in a storm, bringing out the best in Rosalie’s eyes.

Though he was not surprised to find her on the dance floor, the man  _was_ surprised to find her in the arms of none other than Raymond Reddington. Raymond was holding the woman close, tenderly even as they swayed to the music. Florian could see Reddington’s mouth moving against the shell of her ear, and as they turned on the dance floor, he saw Rosalie lean her head into his, beaming and laughing merrily at what he had said.

She looked… incandescent. In truth, Florian had never seen the young woman glow the way she did now.

He had been curious to see how their partnership would turn out. He found himself surprised at the result. The pair were thick as thieves, alternating between talking animatedly and whispering languidly in each other’s ears. Florian watched them for a long while, enjoying the sight of Rosalie so happy.

This thought darkened, however, as he remembered the incident in Munich a few short weeks ago. His adopted daughter had been shot. Though it was merely a flesh wound, the thought notion Florian back to his initial discussion with Reddington. He was entrusting the man with someone very precious to him, and she had been shot.

The older man was determined to speak with him. He made his way across the dance floor, earning a surprised squeal of delight from the young woman in Red’s grasp. He kissed the girl, deploring how beautiful she looked in rapid French before coaxing her into getting a drink while he discussed business with Raymond.

The pair stepped up to a secluded table on one of the balconies, giving them a good view of the ballroom below.

“Florian,” Reddington began, knowing what this was about, but the older man cut him off.

“She was shot.” Florian rumbled, his discontent being made known. “My daughter was shot, while dealing with an issue in  _your_ organization.”

“Yes,” said Raymond, knowing there was no use in arguing the truth. “However, the attack was thoroughly neutralized. My people are hunting down the responsible party as we speak.”

This news did little to settle Florian’s nerves.

The men watched as the woman in question sat relaxing in her seat, knees crossed and foot bouncing along to the music.

A man sidled up to Rosalie, taking the seat next to her and leaning entirely too close for either man’s liking. The young buck was talking animatedly to her, and Raymond was secretly happy to see her looking completely disinterested.

She caught both men staring at her and raised an imperious eyebrow in their direction, noting the matching scowls. Both Raymond and Florian inclined their heads at the man, who had just lifted his hand.

Determined to have Rosalie’s undivided attention, he placed said hand on her thigh. This was the wrong move. Raymond let out an audible growl which caused Florian to smirk knowingly at him. “She will be fine.” He rumbled in his deep French lilt, already aware of what would happen next.

Rosalie’s eyes flitted to the man’s hand for a millisecond before reaching for her teacup. With an elegant flick of her wrist, she dumped half of the scalding liquid onto the offending appendage.

A yelp rang throughout the room as the man wrenched it back, waving it back and forth. Red had to stop himself from laughing out loud at the exchange as Rosalie remained seated, perfectly unphased by the man’s howling.

Mischievous grey eyes met Red’s twinkling green ones and winked as the little woman took a long, exaggerated sip.

Florian watched the pair carefully. Rosalie’s eyes were for Raymond alone. Something had occurred between them, the man was certain of it.

“She cares for you.” He said softly, eyes locking with Raymond’s.

“Hmm?” asked Raymond, surprised at the turn the conversation had taken.

“She cares for you.” Florian repeated, eyeing the man carefully. “Perhaps too much.”

Red’s expression darkened at this statement.

Florian’s icy blue eyes looked out over the crowd, softening slightly when he looked at Rosalie.

“I want better for her.” The man stated vehemently. “I wouldn’t let her date any man in the Corsican gang because I wanted better for her. She deserves a life in which she won’t be shot at. Where she will be safe.”

The man turned to look at Raymond again, “Can you tell me she could ever have that with you?”

The Concierge of Crime stood staring gobsmacked at Florian. How could he possibly know what had transpired between Red and Rosalie three weeks ago?

The question apparently showed in his expression.

“It’s quite obvious to anyone who bothers to look.” the man intoned, pushing off of the balcony’s railing. “I want more for her Raymond, and if you care one iota for her, so should you.”

The man walked away without another word.

The rest of the evening went along smoothly as far as Rosalie was concerned. She noticed a little frigidity between Florian and Raymond, but assumed it had to do with whatever business they were discussing.

She danced a few dances with Florian before passing him off to Marcelo’s maiden aunt so she could find her business partner.

She found him at their table, quietly contemplating his scotch. As Rosalie took a seat next to him, he brought up a topic for discussion. Something of which Red was terribly curious.

“Why did you let me hold you?” he asked quietly, the thought had been plaguing him since that day.

“Because I wanted you to.” Rosalie said offhandedly.

“To solidify our earlier discussion about trust?” He asked pointedly, for some reason the notion bothered him and wouldn’t leave his mind until he heard the truth from her.

“No.” She said immediately, scowling at the very idea. “I wouldn’t try to sway you with my feminine wiles, Raymond. I’m a bit cleverer than that and nowhere near as cruel.”

Red found himself pleased with her response, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

Rosalie noted how he relaxed after she’d said it. Did he really think she would try such a thing? She swallowed as she realized she couldn’t very well tell him the truth. The woman decided to redirect the discussion at warp speed.

“Why did you let me sleep in your arms?”

“Because I wanted you to.” he said, cocking his head and grinning impishly at her. The expression brought a reluctant smile to her lips.

“You could have kicked me out.” She pointed out, suddenly curious.

“That would have been rude.”

“You could have gone to the other side of the bed.” She reasoned.

“That’s not my side.” He grumbled, the notion of sleeping on the left hand side somehow offensive.

Her questioning had effectively directed him away from her own reasoning, but now Rosalie was terribly curious as to why  _he_ had allowed the affection.

“Ok, you could have pushed  _me_ toward the other side.”

“That would have been significantly less comfortable.” He chuckled, taking another sip of his scotch. She was avoiding his question.

“Raymond, why did you hold me?”

“Rosalie, why did you let me?”

“Because I liked it.” She admitted, her face flushing an even deeper scarlet. “You were warm and comfortable and…” Rosalie’s mind wandered back to the dark, secluded comfort of Raymond’s bedroom. The scent of the man held her there, paralyzed by a sense of comfort and belonging.

She didn’t  _let_ him hold her, she practically crawled under his skin, she had so deeply desired to be close to him. How could she explain that without it being weird?

“And?” Red interjected, intrigued to know where the woman’s mind had run off to.

“And…I missed that.” she finished lamely, at a loss for what could save her. Rosalie’s voice diminished slightly, her nerves getting the better of her. “I hadn’t realized, how much I missed…” she couldn’t bring herself to finish.

“I held you because I needed to.” admitted Raymond quietly, “I’d forgotten, how comforting it can be. I didn’t realize how much I missed it too.”

They stared at one another, not sure what they should say now. Rosalie suddenly wanted to go home. The party wasn’t much fun anymore.

Raymond read her mind, silently summoning their guard to take them back to the safehouse.

Teddy Beaumont, one of Rosalie’s men, had become their ipso facto night guard. The man was of a better disposition than Otto Henschke, and was happy to accompany Raymond and Rosalie on their late night shenanigans. Most importantly, the man knew to keep a respectful distance, allowing the pair to enjoy their time away from their respective businesses in relative solitude.

Tonight, however, Red would have given anything for the man to have talked more, filling some of the deafening silence that was the car ride home.

When they finally reached the villa, the pair left Ted to sort out the car. The house was dark as they entered, making their way up the stairs toward the bedrooms.

Raymond and Rosalie headed somewhat reluctantly towards their own rooms, their footsteps echoing to opposite corners of the hallway. As Rosalie’s hand met the handle to her bedroom, she turned to glance at Red’s retreating form.

Instead, their eyes met as he stood in the same position, hand on his own door, looking meaningfully at her. Seconds seemed to stretch into days as the two stood in the hall, unable to break eye contact. Red’s green eyes were boring into Rosalie’s, making the woman’s pulse race even from a distance.

The desire to close the space between them again was only kept in check by an oppressive sense of foreboding.

They shouldn’t. They knew that.

Without needing to ask each other, both seemed to know there were emotions beyond an innocent friendship brewing between them.

It also went without asking that it would be a terrible idea for them to act on those emotions. A romantic relationship would leave them vulnerable. It would create a weakness that could end them both.

Rosalie knew full well she didn’t want to be the downfall of Raymond Reddington. To hell with her own empire, she knew the man well enough to know he was readying for something much bigger than what she was facing. Rosalie could liquidate her own criminal pursuits and have more than enough to provide for her mother and herself. She continued because she felt this world was where she belonged and because she wanted to be absolutely certain no one could touch her family. Raymond was in it for entirely different reasons.

The woman sighed morosely, trying to convey with her shimmering grey eyes as she opened the door to her room, she would much rather be sleeping in his arms. She stepped into the space and closed the door before she could do something they would both regret.

Raymond had watched the little innkeeper as she walked toward her room and was pleased beyond recognition when she turned to gaze back at him. He had felt it all night, a shift in their dynamic.

Something had changed between them.

Red could have sworn the woman now sensed he wanted more from her, and that she wanted more from him in turn.

She crossed the threshold into her room with a look that told Raymond he had not imagined these feelings. Rosalie felt it too. There was a flicker of attraction, a sensation of belonging between them that made the air hum with electricity.

Red had openly flirted with the Rosalie from the beginning of their acquaintance, not once thinking anything about it. Their business relationship had been enough. They hadn’t been working together that long, but Raymond couldn’t imagine moving throughout the world without her now.

He had never really sought a romantic companion after becoming Raymond Reddington. He had engaged in the occasional dalliance, of course. He was only a man, after all, and one with a rather voracious libido, come to that. But in the end, he had always believed he was meant to live Reddington’s life alone. His purpose was to protect Lizzie and ensure she would have a normal life. Only his freedom and her safety mattered.

However, having Rosalie with him every day was somewhat altering the man’s philosophy. He readily admitted his life was more enjoyable with a warm, affectionate woman in the picture. In truth, he positively adored her. Red liked to think she felt the same. She went out of her way to see to his happiness, to bring warmth and comfort to his life, something that he had never encountered from a woman before.

The women Red had dealt with, the criminals especially, be it sex, money, or connections, had all wanted something from him. Even Katarina had ultimately wanted something from him. Rosalie was different in many ways, but none more so than how she treated him. She was warm, kind, and endlessly selfless where Red was concerned.

Raymond rarely, if ever, denied himself anything. So why was he denying himself her? Without stopping to consider the consequences, Red whipped the master bedroom door open and strode swiftly down the hall.

He tapped on Rosalie’s door softly, trying not to wake Horace or Dembe. A soft shuffling noise could be heard before the door opened.

Rosalie stood in a silk pyjama set in a deep peacock blue, a white floral kimono draped across her shoulders to ward off the night’s chill.

Reddington reached a hand out to grasp Rosalie’s waist, the other rising up to cup her cheek. The motion was intimate and sensual, making the young woman shiver in expectation. The man’s lips had just barely skirted hers when they were interrupted.

Dembe’s calm voice echoed into the hallway, “Raymond, there is a phone call for you.”

Raymond sighed in irritation, resting his forehead against Rosalie’s. She gave him a sympathetic smile and reached up to stroke his cheek.

“It’s probably for the best.” she whispered regretfully, taking a step back into her room. The woman needed to get her bearings. Falling for Raymond Reddington was a terrible idea for various reasons; not a single one of which she could think of at that particular moment.

Raymond knew she was right, of course. It was for the best. A moment’s weakness would have had them crossing a line they couldn’t uncross. There was too much at stake for him to pursue her, though he now realized, he dearly wanted to. It didn’t help that Florian’s earlier words were still echoing in his head.

Red leaned back to look around the door. Dembe was standing at the other end of the hall, waiting for him. “Damn.” The man whispered, giving Rosalie one last mournful look before striding to his office.

****************************************************************

 _Five minutes earlier - Rosalie’s room_

“ _So?_ ” a smug voice echoed from the corner of the bedroom as Rosalie shut the door.

The sound startled Rosalie so badly that she instantaneously lobbed one of her heels at the corner of her room.

Horace caught the projectile with ease. “Merde, woman how do you walk in these?” He asked, squinting at the shoe with a look of utter bafflement.

“Horace!” She hissed, clutching her chest, “Why are you skulking in the corner of my room?”

Horace chuckled at her terrorized expression. “I’m not skulking, I’ve been waiting to see how your little outing with Reddington went.” He teased, tossing the woman’s projectile back at her.

Rosalie deftly snagged the heel by one of its straps, scowling at her guard. “Nothing happened. Go play gossip girl with the rest of the boys.” She was in a sour mood, and opted to go change rather than deal with her nosy head of security.

“We all know Otto was likely too busy chasing tail to pay much attention to you two, and Teddy is too much of a loyal sod to tattle.”

Rosalie stepped back out of the closet, already out of her gown and into her pyjamas. Her expression was rather dour, making Horace cease his teasing.

“What happened?” He asked, a note of concern tingeing his voice. Spending time with Reddington usually left Rosalie in a good humour, but tonight there was something decidedly off-kilter.

Rosalie had just opened her mouth when a soft tap issued from the door. The young woman’s brow furrowed at the sound. She hesitated a moment before padding over to the door and swinging it open.

Rosalie’s bodyguard peeked around the armoire he was hidden behind. His mouth fell open at the sight of Reddington pulling the woman tightly to him, their lips just barely grazing each other’s before Dembe’s voice could be heard. Horace winced, listening to the exchange between Raymond and Rosalie before the Concierge of Crime left to take the call.

The woman closed the door to the sound of Raymond’s retreating form, the quiet of her bedroom suddenly oppressively loud. She pressed her back into the door, willing the feelings of bitter disappointment to abate. Instead of subsiding, the feelings worsened, making Rosalie’s eyes burn with tears as she slid to the floor.

Horace was at her side immediately, pulling the small form into his arms. Rosalie’s shoulders shook as she leaned into her guard’s embrace. The man’s brow furrowed as he rested his cheek on the top of her head. It was a rare occurrence for his charge to fall apart like this. Horace stroked her arms gently, allowing her to muffle her sobs with his shoulder.

The woman was coming to terms with the fact that somewhere in the past few months she had started falling for Raymond Reddington. She also had to reconcile with the absolute truth that nothing could ever come of it.

Both she and Reddington had painstakingly built their empires, and for reasons greater than themselves. They had sacrificed so much already, but neither of them could afford to lose their footing now.

“Can I ask?” Horace questioned, understanding the woman’s turmoil.

“He knows. I know. Something has changed. We both can feel it, but we can’t do anything about it.” She murmured sadly.

“We just can’t.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: An Impromptu Vacation
> 
> “Is it really that bad, Raymond?”
> 
> He thought for a moment. “...No, I just fear Dembe and I will go stir crazy if it’s just the two of us.”
> 
> The woman laughed again, Red could hear her packing up her things and calling to Horace.
> 
> “Think of it as an impromptu vacation,” he sweetened the pot, “Wherever we’re headed we will actually be in one place for longer than two days.”


	11. An Impromptu Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack! Chapter 10 has been edited now that I am back at my computer. I hope you guys enjoy this new chapter, and if you have anything you'd love to see from these two, feel free to message me, I'm happy to give any suggestions a shot! As always, thank you SO much for reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening - 'Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered' by George Gershwin, performed by Ella Fitzgerald
> 
> Inspiration for the 'Liberty' Safehouse:  
> http://legendaryhomes.com/idx/mls-dcdc426034-3127_p_st_nw_washington_dc_20007 
> 
> Inspiration for the 'Break Maiden' Black Site:  
> https://www.pella.com/blog/biringer-builders-modern-farmhouse/

_December 1998_

 

Rosalie left with her guards the night after Marcelo’s charity event. She would be spending half of the end of year holidays with her mother and the remaining half with Florian and Marietta in Marseille. The break came at a good time, giving Raymond and Rosalie the space to sort out their conflicting emotions. Or so they thought.

When Christmas morning came around, Red and Dembe woke to a stack of gifts each under the tree at the safehouse in London. The men had smiled and laughed, the house a bit more cheerful. Rosalie had done the requisite books the pair enjoyed so much, but she had also given a few more personal items.

Dembe received a large box of lemon kolaches, a beautiful new prayer rug which was both lightweight and easy to pack, and a new pair of his favourite boots. The quiet bodyguard had grinned broadly upon opening each gift and guarded his baked goods most jealously.

He needn’t have bothered, as Raymond received an identical box bursting with blackberry pastries. He also received a couple of rare records and three very soft cashmere sweaters. Red roared with laughter upon opening each box. He had forgotten admiring Rosalie’s sweater their last time in London. She had remembered though, and came through in spades. Red now had three of the incredibly soft sweaters. One in oxblood, one in a deepest midnight blue, and one in a light dove grey.

Rosalie had her own stack of presents from the boys, Horace having been recruited to sneak them into the house unnoticed. The young woman awoke Christmas morning with the secret stash perched on the foot of her bed.

Dembe had gotten her a book on Mandarin, having promised to teach her in the coming year. He also gave her a new leather overnight bag which was bursting at the seams with fun-patterned socks and scarves.

Raymond had made good on his plans from their altercation with Altan. A smartly wrapped box held a small of the back holster for her Colt .45, in a leather which matched her shoulder holster perfectly. Another box held a beautiful silk kimono in a periwinkle blue. The woman cooed over the beautiful fabric, recognizing the ivory flowers decorating the garment as Spanish bluebells.

When Rosalie opened the largest box, she gasped as she pulled out a beautiful brown leather jacket. The leather was very lightweight and of course, fit like a glove. Rosalie beamed at her reflection as she moved this way and that in the mirror of her room, admiring the fit. It was much like Raymond’s iconic coat, just a shorter cut to suit the young woman’s stature. The jacket’s versatility and ample storage made it perfect for a criminal, and she had secretly envied the garment since she first saw Raymond in it.

A jarring jingle issued from one of the many pockets. Rosalie sifted through several before pulling a burner phone from the depths of the jacket’s interior.

“Merry Christmas, Raymond.” she grinned upon answering.

The deep, comforting chuckle she was growing terribly fond of issued from the phone. “Merry Christmas, Rosalie, I take it you’ve located your contraband?”

Red was standing in the office of the London safehouse, smiling at nothing as he talked to her. A tinkling laugh echoed from the phone, making the smile broaden. He could hear her shifting about, examining her reflection.

“I love it.” She sighed happily, zipping the garment closed. “How did you know I envied yours?”

“I didn’t.” Raymond answered truthfully, pleased she was enjoying his gift. “It’s practical, that colour always looks good on you.”

Rosalie’s cheeks turned a vibrant pink in the mirror. The jacket had a rich hue to it, the exact colour of wildflower honey, and it certainly did look good on her. However, knowing he was thinking such things brought the woman’s mind back to treacherous waters.

Red could tell by the silence Rosalie was blushing. He hadn’t meant it to sound quite so intimate, though he _had_ bought the jacket with the assumption she would look adorable in it.

“What about you?” She asked, diverting the conversation. “What contraband did Santa bring you and Dembe?”

Raymond let out a barking laugh, “I didn’t realize Santa visited the safehouses. Imagine my surprise when there were pretty trinkets under the tree.”

“They’re probably filled with coal.” She quipped, her nose scrunched in amusement.

“I’ll have you know, Santa and I are on excellent terms.” Red intoned, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek.

“Santa and Dembe, more like.” The woman chirped with barely contained mirth.

“You wound me, my dear.” He pouted, making her giggle openly.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to salve those wounds.”

The young woman couldn’t stifle the brazen thought that she would be happy to tend them for him, but she certainly couldn’t say such a thing aloud.

Raymond’s tone turned playful, “I’ll have to drown my sorrows in Hank Mobley and blackberry kolaches. Since my usual source of comfort and general skulduggery is God knows where.”

Rosalie grinned, “You’re _sure_ you won’t come to Marseille?” She asked again, feeling lousy for Red and Dembe being at the safehouse just the two of them.

“No, we’ll leave you to Florian’s, we have plans for Chinese take away and relaxing over New Year’s.” He laughed, “Besides, I think Florian is still quite unhappy with me. Best not to intrude upon his hospitality.”

Rosalie stopped pacing her room immediately. “What on earth could he have to be upset about?”

“You were shot just a month ago, darling.” Raymond reminded, his demeanour darkening at the unpleasant memory.

“That was hardly your fault.” She insisted, setting about packing her new overnight bag.

A dry chuckle left Red’s mouth unbidden. “In a way. It was your association with me which had you in there in the first place.”

The little innkeeper’s temper flared, “My association with _Florian_ got us into that warehouse. We needed a location and I knew it was available. It’s my fault for not ensuring it was secure.”

Raymond shook his head, “Rosalie, Florian has every right to be upset about you being shot. The issue is an outside threat. We’re dealing with it, but working with me creates a certain level of risk for you neither Florian nor I are happy with.”

An angry bubble burst inside the woman at his words, recognizing them as sounding more like Florian than Raymond. “What did you and Florian discuss at Marcelo’s?” she asked sharply.

Red grimaced, still pacing the office. “Nothing of import.” He evaded, a little unnerved at how quickly she had sensed the truth of the matter.

“Don’t lie to me Raymond,” Rosalie grumbled, her mood souring further. “What did Florian say to you?”

Raymond had to bite back his amusement. He secretly enjoyed her fiery little temper, and having her outraged on his behalf made the man’s entire body radiate a pleasant warmth.

“He said he wants better for you than being shot at in warehouses, and if I cared one iota for you, I would too.” Red recited, deciding not to keep the discussion from her.

Rosalie bristled, practically growling into the phone. “He shouldn’t have said such a thing.”

Raymond sighed, perching himself on the window sill. “He’s right, Rosalie, and I do.”

“Do what?” She snapped, tossing errant articles of clothing into her bag, completely missing his meaning.

A bold recklessness took over Red, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rumble. “I do care for you, Rosalie.”

The woman’s mouth fell open at the statement. The shock buckled her knees, dropping her onto the bench at the foot of her bed with a thump. She had not expected it. She would have been fine, really, had he not admitted it. Somehow, hearing the words soothed the ache from what transpired in Munich while simultaneously replacing it with something new that made her body tremble.

“I care for you too, Raymond. Very much.” She admitted, her fingers fidgeting with one of the bench’s tufted buttons.

“I can’t put you in such danger.” He reminded her regretfully.

“I know.”

The man’s voice stayed low, an impossibly comforting sound. “I would be remiss, though, if I let you think for one moment I don’t want to pursue that particular avenue.”

“Raymond…” she breathed, her entire being erupting in goose bumps. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“I know,” he murmured, “I just needed to say it. Just once.” Red rubbed his face gruffly, striding out of the office. “I’ll let you go. Give my regards to Florian and Marietta.”

“Raymond?” Rosalie called, stopping him from hanging up.

He was silent, listening patiently for her response.

“Don’t think for one second I don’t want that too.” She whispered.

A small smile twitched at Red’s mouth. “...I’ll see you soon, Rosalie.”

The call ended with a soft _click._

*************************************************************************************************

_December 30th, 1998 - The Armel Estate - Marseille, France_

 

Rosalie arrived in Marseille early the morning before New Year’s Eve. Marietta fussed about, deploring she didn’t call often enough. The young woman made it up to her by taking her out for a girls’ day at a nearby spa, followed by shopping and dinner. By the time the women returned in the evening, Marietta was in excellent spirits.

As they entered the house, Rosalie could hear the sound of Florian’s booming voice echoing from the library. The sound, usually so comforting, had dropped a stone in the young woman’s stomach. Turning to Marietta, she said, “ _Maman_ , I’m going to see what he is up to.” Rosalie jerked her head toward the sound of the blustering man.

The older woman nodded, smiling and toting her purchases toward her room.

Rosalie made her way down the hall and knocked softly on the open door of the library.

“We need to talk.”

Florian looked up from his discussion with Cedric to give her a steely look which the young woman returned with interest. The mobster asked the younger man to give them a moment.

Cedric left with little ado, recognizing Rosalie was in no mood to be trifled with.

As the heavy oak door closed behind him, Florian gestured toward the open seat, which Rosalie took.

“I heard something of concern from my business partner Christmas Day. It seems you felt it necessary to chastise him for what happened in Munich.”

The man pulled the stopper from a bottle of cognac, “You were shot because of him.”

“That wasn’t Raymond’s fault.” she defended.

“There is an issue within his organization.” Florian insisted, pouring two glasses of the amber liquid and handing one to her.

Rosalie took a sip and shook her head pointedly. “It’s an outside issue.”

The old mobster scowled disbelievingly. “How would you know?”

“It was why we were in Munich. One of his associates was killed.”

“So you aren’t the only person associated with him who’s being shot.” He shrewdly observed, peering over his glass at her.

“That was far from the first time I’ve been shot at, Florian.”

“You know what I mean, _Fille_ , I want _better_ for you.”

“And this ‘better’ you speak of, does it take into consideration what I want?” Rosalie’s tone was icy, determined to alter Florian’s sudden change of opinion on Raymond.

The man’s frown deepened at her questions. “Rosalie, you know I wish you to be happy.”

“I’m happy with Reddington.” She snapped defensively, “I was happy before the mess in Munich and I’m happy now.”

“That’s not what Otto tells me.” The old mobster retorted, “According to him, you were quite upset the night of Marcelo’s party.”

Rosalie’s slate eyes hardened, the older man smirked triumphantly. “Otto needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.” she stated bluntly, “Raymond and I were confronted with the fact that something in our friendship changed, and due to circumstances bigger than either of us, we can’t explore those possibilities.”

Florian frowned in confusion, “What circumstances?”

“There’s something coming for him. Something big.” Rosalie growled, her sharp eyes meeting Florian’s icy blues. “If we were to become romantically involved, I would become a point of weakness. His enemies could use me to destroy him, and I can’t allow such a thing to happen.” Her gaze fell to her fingers which were fidgeting with the zipper of her new jacket. “Likewise, he knows what’s coming and refuses to drag me into the fray.”

“You’re protecting each other by staying apart.” stated Florian, the hard look on his face softening as he comprehended the situation.

“Yes.” agreed Rosalie in a quivering voice, the emotions pressing in on her once more. “Frankly, this past month has been terribly unpleasant because of it.” The young woman stood, “I should be going. I’ve got business to attend to in New York. You can have Otto back, I’ve no use for a guard whose loyalty is so obviously split.”

“ _Ma Fille-_ ” Florian began, ready to chastise her.

Rosalie wasn’t having it. “No, Florian. He went behind my back and blabbed about a private matter. How could I trust him after that? Between Horace, Ted, and Dembe, I’m sure we will get along just fine.”

Rosalie stopped to bend and kiss his cheek, shelving her anger for a moment. “I love you, _Pére_. Very much.”

The man stood to walk her out, seeing her decision was cast. She hugged him once more, promising to call once she landed.

“And _Pére,_ ” Rosalie added, stopping in the doorway, “Please, don't ever tell Raymond Reddington what he should want for me.” 

*************************************************************************************************

_New Years’ Eve - Soho Safehouse, New York City_

 

The afternoon of New Year’s Eve, Dembe was surprised to hear the lock click on the door to the safehouse. He was reading in the kitchen when he heard the sound, immediately leaping to his feet, gun in hand. A head of blonde hair poked through the doorway, raising an eyebrow blithely at him.

“Room for one more?”

Dembe dropped the weapon immediately, tucking it back into its holster. Her question was worded softly, timidly, in a manner most unlike the innkeeper. The young bodyguard eyed her bags quizzically.

“We didn’t expect you for a few more days at least.” Dembe explained his less than friendly welcome. He beamed, seeing her toting her new overnight bag and wearing the jacket Raymond had gotten her. The young man gallantly took the bag from her and walked with her to one of the guest rooms.

“Yes, I’m a tad early, I hope that’s alright.” She fidgeted slightly upon entering her room.

The younger man smiled softly at her. “Raymond will be pleased. I am happy you are back, too.”

The innkeeper’s expression lit with warmth, reaching to squeeze Dembe’s shoulder in thanks. He smiled back at her and left so she could unpack in peace.

After settling into her room, Rosalie went in search of a drink, unsure where Red was.

She took a heavy crystal glass from the bar cart in the lounge, loading it with ice, tonic, and her preferred gin. The bottle had just been put back in its place when a pair of large, warm hands grasped her shoulders.

The grip was gentle, moving to rub up and down her arms. Soothing thumbs kneaded the tight muscles, coaxing a soft sigh from the woman.

“You’re home early.” Raymond’s voice purred against the shell of her ear.

The feel of his warm breath on her neck tickled, “I hope you don’t mind,” she shivered, “I was ready to come back.”

Red gently turned the little woman around, his green eyes searching her features. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she lied, reaching up to stroke the soft cashmere of his sweater. He was wearing the dove grey one she had gotten him for Christmas. “I just needed to come home.”

Her eyes belied the truth, though, telling Raymond everything. She had gotten into an argument with Florian over what was said at Marcelo’s, and didn’t want to talk about it.

Red hadn’t meant for her to take up the issue with the old mobster. Though he should have known she would. Sensing her consternation, he leaned forward, wrapping his strong arms around her lithe frame.

Rosalie relaxed into the embrace, pressing her body tight to his and nuzzling into Red’s shoulder. The frustration of the past few weeks melted into the ether, replaced by the comfort and affection radiating from the man holding her. They stood wrapped up together for several long moments before the sound of Dembe walking the hall pulled them from their solitude.

When the young man poked his head into the lounge, Raymond didn’t budge.

“Yes?” He murmured, cheek still resting atop the head of blonde hair.

“I’m ordering from Nom Wah’s shortly.” He held up a menu, “Rosalie, do you want your usual?”

“Yes, please.” the woman’s muffled voice issued from Red’s chest.

Dembe smiled knowingly and closed the door, his footsteps retreating back down the hall.

Rosalie lifted her head to look at Raymond. “Is this okay?”

“Is what okay?”

“Dembe. I think he might have noticed.” she laughed gesturing between them.

“Oh he won’t say a word.” Raymond sighed, still holding her tight. “If there’s anyone we can trust with these moments, it’s Dembe.”

“Really?” She whispered, her smile widening in surprise.

He smiled back at her, reaching to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “Of course. Dembe is the only one who knows about our little sleepover in Munich. He may have teased me about it later on in private, but he hasn’t told a soul what we got up to.”

“How did he find out?” asked Rosalie, aghast.

“We left the door open,” chuckled Raymond, enjoying her surprised expression. “He closed it for us.”

The woman held a newfound appreciation for her young friend. It meant quite a lot for him to keep their confidence, not even telling Horace what had transpired. When Dembe returned to inform them of when the takeout could be expected, Rosalie hurtled across the room and hugged him tightly.

Dembe was surprised to say the least, hesitating a millisecond before returning the affection, a serene smile lighting his features.

Raymond stood, hands in pockets, watching the proceedings with unguarded affection.

*************************************************************************************************

The trio spent the next few hours enjoying their rare quiet evening in. There were boxes upon boxes of heavenly smelling food from Nom Wah’s, which they had devoured until fit to burst. The time between dinner and ringing in the New Year was filled with raucous stories, several competitive board games, and one very well-loved record player.

As it neared midnight, the three had settled onto the sofa, Dembe in one corner, Raymond in the other, with Rosalie nestled in between, her head resting in the crook of Red’s shoulder.

The pair had stayed within touching distance all night. A brush here, a squeeze there, they took full advantage of the nearly empty house and Dembe’s trustworthiness to satiate a bit of their need for physical contact.

When the grandfather clock in the lounge chimed 11:45, Rosalie dropped her hand to squeeze Red’s knee and extended a slender leg to prod Dembe’s torso with a sock-clad toe.

The impish smirk on her face fell when, to her immense surprise, Dembe reached with cat-like reflexes and snagged her foot. A mischievous grin overtook his features as his other hand reached to tickle the bottom of the appendage.

Rosalie squealed with laughter, desperately attempting to get away.

Raymond was of no help, wrapping his arms around the little woman, holding her fast and cheering his counterpart on in his pursuits.

By the time 11:50 rolled around, all three were roaring with laughter and breathing as though they had ran a mile.

Red beamed at the other occupants of the couch, his closest friends. Dembe’s deep chuckle mixed jovially with Rosalie’s tinkling laugh, creating an infectious duet that made the man’s spirits soar.

“I’m going to the roof to watch the fireworks, anyone else?” the woman gasped, eyes streaming and heart still pounding. Her cohorts nodded, pushing lazily off the couch. Red nabbed the portable turntable and a couple of records while Dembe pretended to chase Rosalie into the kitchen, sending her into peals of laughter again.

The young woman stopped to make them each a hot drink while the men headed up to the rooftop deck. Raymond propped open the floor-to-ceiling windows with the cantilever, positioning the record player near the opening so the music would echo out into the night. He and Dembe stepped onto the cold terrace, zipping their jackets and donning their gloves.

“You two seem to be getting along.” intoned Dembe knowingly.

“I could say the same for you.” countered Raymond, having noticed the camaraderie blossoming between the bodyguard and the innkeeper.

“I like her,” agreed Dembe, “She is good for all of us. Kind, warm, caring. She was very upset when she came home. I think she is much happier now.”

A tender smile appeared on Reddington’s face, recognizing how he and his counterpart had banded together to brighten her mood.

Rosalie appeared moments later with hot toddies for her and Raymond and hot chocolate for Dembe. She had also donned one of Red’s fedoras. He had forgotten the item and was already feeling the chill.

The man laughed appreciatively, plucking the hat from her curls and popping it on his head with a flourish before taking his drink.

Rosalie handed Dembe his usual knitted hat before pulling on a pair of her own fluffy earmuffs.

The trio sat on the edge of the roof listening to the music and waving to the few neighbours willing to brave the chilly rooftops around them. All were silent, waiting for the sounds of the New Year.

As the clock ticked over to midnight, a lone golden firework burst into the sky, its fiery trail pointing to the location of Times Square in the distance. There was whistling and cheering all around as the revellers wished each other the happiest of New Year’s.

Dembe stood, setting down his cup and murmuring, “And that is my cue, ‘To All a Good Night!’”

Rosalie stood on her tiptoes and kissed Dembe’s cheek warmly, making the young man flush with amusement. He turned to hug Raymond, the men giving each other a firm pat on the back before Dembe nodded, leaving the other two to their own devices. As he stepped through the opening below, they heard him switching the records, laughing merrily as ‘Auld Lang Syne’ came crooning out into the night.

Raymond cocked his head to the side, chuckling and beaming at the woman who was beaming back at him. Without a word, he held out his hand, which she took. He pulled the feminine frame tight to him, leading her into a dance.

It felt right, swaying and spinning her around the rooftop. The fireworks thundered in the distance, lighting the New York skyline with a riot of colour. Raymond looked down at the bundle in his arms, her face alight with warmth as she swayed with him.

When those dancing grey eyes met Red’s playful green ones, something called to him. A vital promise of comfort and affection beckoned to him. Like a siren drawing a sailor to the sea, her gaze pulled him in, coaxing all manner of lies.

Red told himself her lips were made for him, that if he kissed them, just once, it would be enough. He convinced himself he’d be able stop at one. He was certain he could sail these seas alone for the rest of his days if he could taste her lips, just once.

Rosalie watched Raymond’s gaze darken, volatile and wanting. Why did he have to be so handsome? So caring? He held her, steadfast and warm, bringing her attention back to those sensations she had been sorely missing. He was the only fixed point to which she could cling on this spinning blue ball. He was the only thing that calmed the chaos. The only thing that made sense in this world. She was certain, if she could kiss the lips that spoke so gently to her, the world would cease to move. Everything would be calm and quiet.

Surrendering to the tempting notions, they leaned closer, their noses brushing teasingly against each other’s before finally giving in.

Their lips met in one gentle, chaste caress.

It was quick, too quick for either party’s liking, yet the kiss held a searing, burning electricity. Like a lone streak of lightning flashing across a starless night, it was white-hot and blinding. The small affection held so much more than either was prepared for.

Raymond was hit with the overwhelming truth that just once would never be enough, that it seemed her lips truly _were_ made for him, and most unsettlingly, he had no desire to sail any sea where she couldn’t follow. He opened his eyes to see Rosalie’s face mirroring the shock he felt.

Instead of the calm and quiet she had expected, the simple touch had brought forth a roaring inferno within her. The world seemed to speed up, hurtling at breakneck speeds as she tried desperately to hold on.

The pair’s eyes met in stunned silence. They were in deep, deep trouble, and they knew it.

*************************************************************************************************

Raymond and Rosalie had crept back down the stairs, scurrying to their separate rooms, still reeling from what had happened on the roof. Rosalie changed in a hurry, donning one of her usual silk pyjama sets and the new kimono with the bluebells on it before steeling her resolve and tiptoeing down the hall.

It was a small kiss, it shouldn’t have felt like anything. So why did it feel like everything? The young woman wasn't certain what had passed in that kiss, all she knew was that all she wanted was in the room at the end of the hall. Rosalie’s mind went silent as she pulled up to Raymond’s room, tapping on the door with a lone digit before entering.

Red was seated on his side of the bed beneath the blankets, his eyes wide and a lone brow quirked in question.

“We can trust Dembe and Horace won’t be here until late tomorrow.” she whispered, closing the door. “I want to sleep here, with you. Just for tonight.” She allowed the kimono to slip from her shoulders, pooling like water on the floor.

Red’s mouth went bone dry.

“Please?” she added, sweetly.

Raymond didn’t have the strength to deny such a request. Especially when she said it like that. Her voice was soft and soothing, imploring the man within to acquiesce just this once. Without hesitation, he pulled back the blankets, the white sheets showing brightly in the moonlight. “Come here,” he rasped, beckoning her to him. Rosalie wasted no time in moving over to the bed. The moment she slid into the cool sheets, Raymond pulled her body flush against his, cradling her head to his shoulder and burying his face in the nape of her neck with a broken sigh.

They weren’t certain what would happen in the coming year. They weren’t sure how long they could fight what was happening between them. For now, just tonight, they surrendered to their need for closeness. Just for tonight, they would sleep ensconced in their favoured sanctuary.

Unbeknownst to them, Dembe lie awake in his room, feigning sleep. A broad grin broke across the man’s face as he heard the little footsteps scuttle from one end of the hall to the other before disappearing behind Raymond’s door. ‘ _Slowly but surely,’_ he mused, turning onto his side, ‘ _the universe always finds a way.’_

*************************************************************************************************

_Four months later - The Liberty Safehouse - Washington D.C - April 1999_

 

The next few months passed with little change.

Raymond and Rosalie settled back into their pre-Munich state; enjoying each other’s company while pretending to be blissfully unaware of their mutual attraction. They accomplished this admirably, mostly due to the nights where one of them would break and sneak into the other’s room, echoing the ‘just for tonight’ sentiment they had taken up on New Year’s.

Dembe was still the only one to know about their late night wanderings. As was his way, he hadn’t breathed a word to Horace or Ted, but had greatly enjoyed giving Raymond a good ribbing when they were alone. He had even teased Rosalie about it, chuckling at the vibrant blush that always graced her cheeks when he did so.

When Raymond left for Havana, however, the pair were forced to return to their original sleeping arrangements. They had parted in rather glum spirits in Washington D.C., staring down a long three weeks in separate countries.

Two weeks into the stint, Rosalie had just finished a new acquisition, and was heading back to the brownstone she affectionately dubbed, ‘Liberty’. It was a lovely freestanding brownstone in classic red brick with dark black trim. Though Rosalie didn’t particularly like D.C., it was the seat of the U.S. government, and therefore a hotbed of criminal activity. She had a handful of properties and had just been prevailed upon to purchase another as client after client was booking.

Red had been busy dealing with business in Havana, but he called a couple of times a day to check in, provide updates, and most importantly, to laugh with his business partner.

Ted and Horace had just walked her into the safehouse and plopped on the couch when a loud jingle erupted from Rosalie’s jacket. She pulled out the burner, smiling at the sight of Raymond’s most current number. Rosalie flipped the phone open and had just opened her mouth to speak when Raymond’s voice rang clearly out of the speaker.

“ _Rosie, dear!_ ”

Rosalie halted, her blood running cold.

“I’ve been looking for that kolache recipe from the last time we were in _Havana_. Do you know where it is?”

Dread. Cold, biting dread filled the woman’s stomach as she realized what the man was asking.

‘Rosie, dear’ was their code phrase.

Raymond was in trouble, and needed to get out of the safehouse in Havana. Rosalie mentally shook herself, her mind firing into action.

“Is the recipe on the fridge?” she asked, her tone concerned.

“No” he said genially. _‘Ok,’_ she thought, ‘ _he can’t_ _speak_ _freely_.’

“You need a black site?” she asked softly.

“Yes, and another _pan_.” he emphasized.

Rosalie pulled out a pen and paper, her mind working feverishly. _A pan_?

“An exit?” she tried, unsure if she had come to the correct conclusion.

Red cocked his head, beaming at nothing in particular, “Yes, dear.”

Rosalie’s brain hurtled along, formulating a plan. Red needed a black site and a way out of the house which wouldn’t draw suspicion. There was just one loose end.

“Doesn’t Dembe knew my recipe by heart?” she asked, hoping he would understand. He did.

“You know; he might remember it but he’s all the way out in the car.” Red sincerely hoped nothing had happened to the young man in his absence. There were still two guards out front.

Rosalie would need to contact Dembe once Red was safely out of harm’s way.

The path forward clear, Rosalie quickly and precisely guided him on what to do. “In the lounge, there’s a copy of ‘ _The Wheel Spins_ ’. Middle bay, third shelf from the top, eighth book in. Coordinates are written on the binding.”

Rosalie heard him jovially making his excuses to the individuals in the room and turn toward the hallway leading to the room in question.

“When you walk into the room, a key is hidden in the frame, at your eye level. Press the circle.”

Red looked surreptitiously up at the door frame as he walked into the lounge, quickly prodding the inlay without missing a step. He caught the key which sprung out, making a beeline for the bookshelf.

“The key goes into the same bay where you’ll find the book. Take both with you when you leave. The tunnel leads to a hatch by the main road.”

Reddington plucked the book she had indicated from the shelf and slid the key into the lock. He slid behind the bay and closed the opening just in time to hear footsteps coming down the hallway.

“That’s my clever girl.” Raymond’s voice purred affectionately in her ear as she heard him taking the tunnel’s stairs two at a time.

Rosalie pulled another satellite phone from the kitchen table. “I need to call Dembe-” she began, but Reddington interrupted her.

“No,” he barked, “if you call him, they will smell something is off and he’ll become a target.”

“You don’t think they already have an inkling something is up after you Houdini-ed out of the lounge??” she snapped. Reddington’s amused chuckle reverberated through the line as she dialled the younger man.   

Dembe picked up immediately, his voice steady and calm. “I’m already on the move. Where is he?”

“Left at the bottom of the hill, on the main road. 200 yards from the turn.”

Rosalie held her breath as she waited, listening to the sound of Dembe driving the sedan hard down the hill. Tires screeched through the connection as she heard a heavy metal thud from Red’s line. The man was out of the hatch.

“On your left, Dembe.” She whispered, still clutching both phones anxiously.

The young innkeeper’s knuckles were white as she squeezed the devices, listening to the sounds of screeching tires and running feet.

Horace walked up to her confused as to why she was clutching two phones like the last life rafts on a sinking ship.

Her wide grey eyes looked panic-stricken as she mouthed the words ‘ _Havana_ ’ and _‘HUGE problem’_. She turned to wave at Ted, gesturing him to bring the car back out of the garage. If Raymond and Dembe were hurt or captured, they would need to head to Havana immediately.

Tires screeched through both phones, and Rosalie let out a sigh of relief as she heard a car door open then slam shut, Raymond’s voice echoed through the lines, breathing heavily. “Go. We need to make the airport before they do.”

“Rosalie?” His voice echoed, losing some of its bite. “You need to take Horace and head for the black site.”

Horace nodded at her, moving to pack up their things.

“How far do you think you can get?” she asked, whipping the black site folio from her bag.

“We can get state side, as long as we’re on the plane in the next five minutes.” Red tapped Dembe’s shoulder softly, urging him to punch it.

The engine roared through the phone’s connection as Rosalie scanned the folio feverishly. “The book, you need to separate the pages from the binding. The coordinates are there.”

She no more than got the words out when she heard a tell-tale rip on the other line. Red read out the coordinates, “37.104894 x -83.323248?”

“Good,” she said, “give those to Edward and stay below radar range.” She heard the sound of Red and Dembe exiting the sedan and striding quickly to the plane, engines already roaring.

“Rosalie, we’ll need to find an airport first.” Red reminded looking in the distance for any tails.

“Oh no you won’t.” She sing-songed in his ear, “The property is nearly 300 acres, and it has a cleared landing strip.”

Reddington emitted a barking laugh as Dembe hurtled through the plane’s door, slamming it closed behind him. “Oh Rosalie,” he sighed appreciatively, “When we land I’m either marrying you or giving you an obscene raise.”

“My, my, what dictates your decision?” She purred as she heard him relaxing into one of the seats, safely airborne.

Raymond didn’t miss a beat, “Whether or not there’s kolaches.” His tone was completely serious, and the man found his bodyguard nodding in agreement beside him.

“Dembe says if they’re all lemon, _he’ll_ marry you.” Red teased, holding the phone out of the other man’s reach.

“I said no such thing, Rosalie.” Dembe called in his smooth voice, then added, “But I would very much appreciate the lemon ones.”

Her tinkling laugh cascaded out of the phone, warming both men considerably. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t want to get married Dembe?” She whinged, her voice tinged with mock outrage.

“You couldn’t keep up with me.” Dembe teased, earning a roaring laugh from Raymond.

“If I feed you too many baked goods you won’t be able to keep up with anyone.” The woman quipped right back, making both men beam at each other.

“I’ll see what I have, I’m not sure if I have blackberries either.”

“I think she’s trying to let us both down easy.” Red intoned sullenly.

“Her loss, we are quite the catch.” Dembe muttered sagely.

“Hold on now, I didn’t realize you came as a two for one special.” She teased, her interest obviously peaked.

Dembe chuckled deeply at the scowl that darkened Raymond’s face.

“All joking aside, Rosalie, you need to take Horace and head for the black site as well. I don’t trust Castro’s people not to go after you. He seemed to know that was your house.”

“Damn, I’ll have to burn it then.” He heard her grumble irritably. “Wait...did you say Castro? As in, _the_ Castro?”

Red tilted his head back and forth, “The very same. The man is exceptional at rallying support, but when it comes to extra-legal activities, he’s incredibly short-sighted.”

“Is it really that bad, Raymond?”

He pondered the situation for a moment, “...No, I just fear Dembe and I will go stir crazy if it’s just the two of us.”

The woman laughed again, Red could hear her packing up her things and calling to Horace.

“Think of it as an impromptu vacation,” he sweetened the pot, “Wherever we’re headed we will actually be in one place for longer than two days.”

Rosalie bit her bottom lip to keep from grinning, failing miserably.

“I’ll take that as an emphatic and resounding yes.” chimed Raymond, recognizing the sound of her overnight bag zipping.

“ _Yes_ ” she all but squealed, causing a roar of laughter to issue from the device. 

*************************************************************************************************

Rosalie and Horace packed hurriedly. Ted was bringing around the car and would fly out with them. Once Red’s plane landed, Ted would board and escort the pilot to safety while Raymond and Dembe remained at the black site.

Raymond would be there in four hours, which meant the trio needed to leave immediately to get there before them.

A horn issued from the front of the house, alerting them to Ted’s presence. Horace took the bags out to the car while Rosalie closed down the safehouse. Her guards came to flank her on either side as she exited the brownstone, intent on getting to the airport as fast as possible.

Rosalie’s suv was heading down the highway at a steady clip when Red called again.

“Are you in the air?”

“Not yet,” she said, watching as Ted navigated traffic. “We should be up in fifteen minutes.”

“Good,” sighed Raymond, his nerves calming slightly.

Rosalie’s head turned towards Horace, a gasp just barely escaping her mouth before a loud crash sounded through the connection.

Reddington stood stock still in front of the aircraft’s bar, listening to the sound. “Rosalie?” There was nothing on the other end.

“Rosalie!” Red called, his concern growing by the second.

Shouting echoed from the other line followed by a barrage of gunshots. Red’s eyes were narrowed in anger as he strode quickly to the cockpit.

“Edward, there’s been a change of plans. Take us to D.C.”

“No can do, sir.” said Edward, polite yet firm.

“What?” snapped Reddington.

“I’m under strict orders from your innkeeper. Black site protocol is in place, I can’t deviate from the flight pattern.” The man looked apologetic as he turned to look at Raymond.

“What do you mean black site protocol?” Red growled. He heard Rosalie’s voice echo out of the phone.

“Raymond!”

“Rosalie, what happened?”

“We were side-swiped by someone. Horace took out the driver, I got their tires, but we aren’t sure who else might be following us. We need to go dark.”

“Are you okay?” He asked, concerned less about where they were headed and more about the sickening crunch he had heard coming out of the phone.

“Yeah, the windows were blown out, but we’re fine.” She sighed, “Raymond I’ve got to go, it’s not safe for either of us to be on the phone. I’ll see you soon, alright?”

The man pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “Okay, but when we get there you and I are talking about this black site protocol business.” he groused.

“Deal.” she laughed, closing the phone with a snap.

*************************************************************************************************

_Five hours later - Black Site #5 aka “Break Maiden” - Undisclosed Location, Kentucky_

 

Edward landed the plane on the dirt tarmac long enough for Raymond and Dembe to disembark and Ted to board before taking off again.

Horace stood at the gate to meet them, his expression sombre.

“Where is she?” barked Raymond, tossing their bags into the rear of the truck.

The older bodyguard held his hands up in a placating gesture. “She’s fine, she’s got a couple scrapes from the crash, but other than those she is absolutely fine. She’s not out here to meet you because she’s in the bath.”

This did little to appease the high-strung fugitive. He waved the other two to follow him, quickly boarding the vehicle so they could get to the house. Horace smirked knowingly at his younger counterpart, whose eyes were glinting with suppressed amusement.

The truck rumbled up a long open stretch of pea stone road bordered by live oak trees and white split-pole fencing. There were dark shapes moving in the moonlight on the other side of the fence, but Raymond paid them no mind. He could see soft lights at the end of the lane. A magnificent farmhouse with an enormous wrap-around porch emerged like a crown at the top of the hill. It loomed tall above the trees, somehow alive and cheerful even in the dead of night.

The truck came to a stop in the horseshoe driveway, Red barely waited for the vehicle to cease its momentum before stepping out and striding purposefully through the home’s double doors. He didn’t stop to admire the warm, comforting atmosphere before he took the staircase, two at a time, up to the second floor.

Dembe laughed softly to himself, assisting Horace with the bags.

“One would think he missed her _._ ” Dembe commented smoothly in an undertone.

“Oh she missed him _._ ” Horace replied, beaming a mischievous grin. “She was pacing a rut in the floor waiting for you. It was driving me insane. I made her go take a bath and conveniently forgot to tell her when you had landed.” The guard’s amusement was barely contained as they brought the luggage into the house.

Dembe shook his head, thinking Horace would be very lucky to survive Rosalie’s wrath once she found out.

He found Raymond in the upstairs hallway, leaning with his back against the master bathroom door. His eyes were closed as he breathed in deeply. From the confines of the bathroom, Dembe was surprised to hear a velvety voice issuing a gentle melody. He watched as Raymond’s mouth twitched a soft smile, unaware of the bodyguard’s presence.

“What’s she singing now, Mustang Sally?” Horace teased loudly, coming up the stairs.

Reddington placed a lone digit in front of his lips and shushed him with a scowl. “Gershwin.” he murmured, lying his head back against the door as the woman’s voice crooned the opening bars.

Red’s soul hummed a quiet contentment. She was fine. Rosalie was perfectly safe, singing away in the master bath, most likely entrenched in a horde of bubbles. The last thought left a tantalizing image in his mind which he struggled to remove.

Dembe arose from the stairs a moment later with an ice cold bottle of beer in each hand, holding one out to Raymond.

He took the beverage gratefully; it had been a terribly long day. The men stood in communal silence, listening to the impromptu concert with soft smiles written on their faces. Raymond had not been the only one missing the young innkeeper’s presence. Dembe had obviously missed her as well.

The pair had developed a close camaraderie since New Year’s, and could often be found deep in discussion whenever there was a free moment. They shared a love of languages and the written word, endlessly discovering new phrases and literary recommendations to share with each other. The sight always warmed Raymond considerably, pleased that they had found friendship in one another.

A few minutes later, they heard the sound of the bathtub draining. Dembe pushed off the opposite wall, clinking his bottle with Raymond’s before taking his leave, giving them a moment.

Deciding not to linger too long on how _that_ understanding came about, Raymond turned to stare fixedly at the door. The woman’s humming could still be heard as she padded around the bath, completing her usual routine. Raymond had just set his bottle on a nearby piece of furniture when a drawn out sigh issued from within, the door unlocking with a _click_.

Rosalie stepped out of the steamy confines, not realizing Red was there. She called out to her guard, “Horace, if he’s not here in the next ten seconds, I’m-” She stopped, seeing a pair of brown leather shoes in front of her. The slate orbs roamed up the familiar stocky frame, recognizing the waistcoat and crisp white shirt immediately. A soft gasp left her mouth when she met Raymond’s gaze.

He looked at her with a mixture of surprise, concern, and hunger. The little woman was wrapped in naught but a fluffy white towel. Her blonde tresses fell in damp waves along her shoulders, which were a pleasant pink from the hot water. Red noticed a minor cut on the arm not holding the towel, and a small bruise on her left knee from the crash. As Horace had said, other than a few scrapes she was absolutely fine.

A tiny scratch on her left cheek called to him, but before Raymond could react, Rosalie was closing the space between them. A small hand reached out to touch him, skirting over his torso and unbuttoning the waistcoat that was covering his middle. Raymond was about to ask her what she was doing when, with a surge of emotion, he realized she was checking _him_ for injuries. Her movements were frantic, fingers skating all over his body, rotating him so she could check every angle. Raymond gladly allowed her to bully him about in several circles, ensuring every inch of him was intact. Satisfied that he was in perfect condition, Rosalie stopped fidgeting and let out a shaky breath.

Red grinned, cupping her cheek gently and brushing a large thumb over the satin soft skin.

“You’re okay?” She asked, the concern continuing to roll off of her in waves. Her anxious eyes still flitted critically over his broad frame.

“I’m fine, thanks to you.” He took a step forward, his hand splayed on the wall behind her, thoroughly boxing her in with his large frame. “Have I ever told you just how amazing your network is?” he purred, eyes boring into hers.

“N-no” stammered Rosalie, her knees buckling. She was suddenly painfully aware of the heat coursing through her body, how little she was wearing, and how much his proximity was affecting her.

“You, my clever little innkeeper, have created something incredible.” His thumb continued to stroke her cheek as a luminous blush flooded the porcelain skin. His praise seemed to rob her of speech, leaving a small ‘o’ of surprise between her rosy lips. “I have never had an exit go so smoothly after a negotiation going so wrong. There’s not a scratch on either of us.”

The young woman beamed with pride at his statement. “I’m glad you’re both safe, Raymond.” She breathed, the sincerity in her voice plucking at his heart strings.

Red struggled to hold himself in check, knowing he couldn’t, shouldn’t kiss her. They hadn’t since that fateful night in New York. He settled for resting his forehead against hers, her nose nuzzling playfully against his own.

Horace stood unnoticed at the end of the hallway, one of Rosalie’s scarves clutched in hand. It had managed to end up in his bag while they were haphazardly packing. His eyes were transfixed on his charge and her business partner. Horace seemed to have happened upon a private moment. If Rosalie’s body language was anything to go by, he had stumbled upon a _very_ private moment. The bodyguard remained paralyzed on the spot, gaping at his discovery.

Dembe, whose door had remained open, stopped his unpacking at the sight of the older guard blatantly gawking in the hallway. Realizing what the man was likely staring at, Dembe made a soft _psst_ sound.

Horace’s head jerked toward the noise, eyes the size of dinner plates. ‘ _Oh My God’_ he mouthed.

Dembe’s shook his head in exasperation. Acting quickly, he reached out with one large hand, angling four fingers to the ground and waving them toward Horace in a scooching gesture.

Horace cocked his head in confusion, jerking his thumb significantly down the hallway and waving the young bodyguard toward him.

Dembe’s head shook back and forth again, slowly. He repeated the gesture with his hand, mouthing, ‘ _Go Back!’_

With one last glance at the pair down the hall, Horace took one swift, silent step back into his room. Safely hidden from sight, the large man put his hands on top of his head, still in shock.

Dembe continued to unpack, perfectly unphased, though a small smile was tugging at his lips.

*************************************************************************************************

Rosalie waited the appropriate amount of time after everyone had gone to bed before practically leaping out from under her blankets. Completely forgoing her usual silk robe, she opened her bedroom door and stealthily crept out into the hall. Being deep in the Kentucky countryside meant the house’s interior was pitch black once night settled. This didn’t bother Rosalie in the slightest. These halls were more familiar than the back of her hand, even in the dead of night. She effectively dodged the tricky little table next to the master bath and navigated the squeaky floorboard that marked the halfway point before running into something large.

Raymond had just left his room and began shuffling down the long expanse of impossibly dark hallway when he bumped into a small, warm bundle. Rosalie emitted a tiny squeak of surprise which Red quickly muffled with his hand. He rushed forward, clutching the woman tight to him so she didn’t fall from the sudden collision.

A feminine giggle snuck out of her throat as his lips brushed her ear.

“You said you were good at sneaking out.” He reminded, his hand releasing her mouth.

“I don’t usually have to do it while playing red rover with the FBI’s most wanted.” She whispered hoarsely, trying desperately not to laugh.

Raymond sniggered at her wit, bending to capture her around the middle. He stood so she was draped over his shoulder, her little body trembling with suppressed laughter. “Come with me my little deviant,” he purred, “I haven’t slept well in weeks.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: Old Kentucky Home
> 
> "Did you do it?" Her tone belied her speculation over the matter.
> 
> Raymond turned to meet her eyes, "What do you think?"
> 
> "I think you don’t strike me as a traitor." She stated, her brow furrowing, "Yet you also don’t strike me as an American. You seem to be as American as I am."


	12. Old Kentucky Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe this has 80 kudos! Thank you all SO much for reading!! Just so you are aware, we are going to start making our way towards that E rating...😘 As always, please comment and let me know what you think!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested Listening: Wild Heart by Mumford and Sons
> 
> Inspiration for the 'Break Maiden' Black Site:  
> https://www.pella.com/blog/biringer-builders-modern-farmhouse/

_Blacksite #5 - Break Maiden - Undisclosed Location, Kentucky - May 1, 1999_

 

Raymond awoke the following day warm, comfortable, and completely surrounded by the scent of a woman. After tossing and turning for the past two weeks, having her with him allowed the man to truly sleep.

Red tightened his hold on the soft bundle, nuzzling into the fragrant nape of her neck and letting out a contented hum. He felt a deep sense of calm and relaxation as they lay curled up in the early morning light.

Rosalie woke at his touch, nestling deeper into his hold. A soft hand reached out to gently stroke the warm arms wrapped around her. She slept better last night than the entirety of the two weeks he had been gone.

Footsteps could be heard in the hall, alerting them Dembe was up and about.

The young woman let out an irritated sigh. “ _Not yet._ ” She grumbled, tugging the blanket up to hide them from sight.

The blanket flopped to only partially obscure Raymond from view, garnering a low chuckle. “Ten minutes.” He reminded, reaching to tug the blanket the rest of the way over them.

Hearing Dembe moving about in the hall meant Horace would soon be up and about as well. Both guards could be relied upon to wake up at the same times every day without fail.

Raymond and Rosalie had used this knowledge to hone the timing of their late night wanderings to an absolute science. The pair knew exactly how much time there would be each morning to get back to their respective rooms. Now Dembe was awake, they had precisely ten minutes before Horace would exit his room.

Rosalie turned grumpily and wrapped her arms around Raymond, nuzzling into his chest.

The man smiled at the action, stroking a hand along her ribcage.

“I slept terribly without you.” she confessed, fiddling with the neckline of his shirt.

Red’s fingertips continued caressing her torso as his mouth met her ear. “So I shouldn’t feel guilty for already planning to sneak into your room tonight?”

The statement coaxed a giggle from Rosalie, lightening her mood considerably.

*************************************************************************************************

An hour later, the occupants of the house were all contentedly eating breakfast. In the light of day, they could finally appreciate the beauty of the home they were in.

The French farmhouse kitchen was enormous. Dark blue cabinets with shining brass hardware lined the walls, pairing beautifully with the warm butcher block counters. A large island took centre stage, made of dark cherry wood and paired with a startling white marble countertop. High above the island hung a massive cast iron rack, from which hung several gleaming pots and pans. In all, the effect was magnificent.

Rosalie was obviously thrilled to be in the big house. The men watched her with varying degrees of amusement as she flitted happily about the room getting breakfast ready.

Rosalie was like Raymond in that home was wherever she laid her head. However, as the man in question watched her intently, his curiosity was peaked. Where in other safehouses Rosalie might hesitate a millisecond before recalling where the utensil drawer was or which hidden compartment held the firearms, she moved throughout the farmhouse with absolute certainty. She carried on her usual conversations with Dembe and Horace without skipping a beat, and there were little movements she made which looked honed, practiced to the point of being nonchalant. The thought was intriguing, and brought forth a sea of questions in the man’s mind.

Once the foursome finished the last vestiges of their meal, the young innkeeper smiled softly. “Well, shall we take a quick tour?”

There was a murmur of assent followed by the scraping of four chairs as they trooped out into the entryway.

Rosalie led them out into the front drive, hopping into the driver's seat of the large truck. Horace shook his head and snorted with laughter as the woman grinned triumphantly.

“We’re at a blacksite. I get to drive!” She cheered, not even bothering to buckle her seatbelt. The large bodyguard relented to take the backseat with Dembe, leaving Reddington to the front with Rosalie.

In the glowing morning sun, the guests could see the drive was lined with white split-pole fencing which was further split into a series of paddocks. A few black and white cows meandered about in one, while another held an enormous pair of gleaming black horses. They had driven halfway down the drive before Rosalie pulled the truck to the side between two tall live oaks. She hopped out, opening a gate to one of the empty pastures and driving through. The truck trundled up a clearly worn path in the grass, pulling up to the crest of another hill, topped with a towering dogwood tree.

The group stepped out of the vehicle in the shade of the large tree and looked out over the expansive property.

There were seven large paddocks surrounding the house on the hill. Each were framed in white fencing and more than half held animals of some kind, most of them horses. Beyond the paddocks and the stable stretched acres and acres of forests and fields, creating a natural barrier of privacy and protection around the property. Far in the distance, they could just make out the little dirt landing strip they had touched down on the night before.

Raymond knew the woman had said the whole thing was 300 acres, but he was still taken aback by the sheer size of the property. “What is this place?”

Rosalie stood next to him with her hands in her jacket pockets, a warm smile lighting her features. “Blacksite number 5, though I call her _Break Maiden_.”

The group watched half a dozen horses come galloping through one of the larger paddocks, the thunder of hooves completing the picturesque scene.

Dembe turned to look thoughtfully at Rosalie, “Break maiden is a racing term, is it not?”

She grinned at him, “Yes. A break maiden is when a horse or a jockey wins for the very first time.”

Raymond’s eyes searched her intently. Rosalie positively glowed as she gazed lovingly over the rolling pastures, the pride she felt radiating from her pores.

“This was your first safehouse.” Red murmured in astonishment.

The slate eyes misted slightly as she nodded. “Yes, yes she was.”

There was a long silence while the four took in the surroundings. A few minutes later Horace clapped his hands together. “Well, shall we?”

Dembe and Rosalie nodded, turning to follow the older guard back to the truck.

Raymond stood there a moment longer, staring at the beautiful surroundings. It was no wonder Rosalie was so attached to the place. It was idyllic, the very definition of comfort and safety.

The man found himself feeling a burst of pride for the woman. This had been her very first success. It explained his earlier observations on her behaviour easily. For her to keep the place all these years, turning it into such a haven, it would have taken a great deal of time and effort. She had obviously lived here for quite a while, getting it ready to be a safehouse.

There, on the hill, he could see the fruits of her labour as the property guarded both her and the three men safely within.

Rosalie looked over to the empty passenger’s seat, realizing Raymond was still looking out over the property. She hopped back out of the truck and came to stand beside him.

“The house came into my possession nearly four years ago,” she explained in a soft, warm voice, “Once I had enough capital, I bought the acreage around it and shifted it into a black site. I wanted it to remain as sacred as possible. A quiet haven.”

She lifted mischievous brows, “You’re actually the first person to stay here aside from myself.”

“Well I’m flattered to be the one to pop the maiden’s cherry.” Red teased jauntily, tearing his eyes from the scenic view to grin roguishly at the little woman beside him.

She laughed at the rascally quip, a playful smile gracing her lips. It warmed her heart to see Raymond so interested in a place she so dearly loved. Were they alone, she would have stepped closer to him, would have nestled into his shoulder and traced her lips along his jaw, if she dared.

Raymond watched her features hungrily, enjoying the range of emotions that played out so openly there. His irreverent sense of humour tended to annoy women of Rosalie’s level of wealth and power. They found the cavalier attitude impertinent.

Rosalie, thankfully, had more of a Wildean outlook on the human condition. She felt one’s life was far too important a thing to be taken so seriously _._ Therefore, when Raymond’s quick and often indecent wit came to the fore, Rosalie proved to be an active and eager audience. The thought had the man grinning rather devilishly.

In the confines of the truck, the two bodyguards looked on with knowing expressions.

“Do they think they’re fooling anyone?” asked Horace, eyes narrowing through the tinted glass.

“ _We are all fools in love_ ,” quoted the younger man, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Yes,” agreed Horace, “But all this bandying about is making me nauseous.” He looked out the window at the couple making moon eyes at each other and mimed vomiting.

“Raymond and Rosalie think they are doing what is best for each other by denying their attraction.” supplied Dembe with a shrug.

Horace quirked his eyebrows in disbelief, “And what’s your take on that?”

“They won’t be able to do so for long.” The young bodyguard turned to meet his friend’s gaze. “If the universe wants them together, no sense of duty will keep them apart.”

The older man grinned deviously. “We could…help the universe along in its endeavour.”

Dembe grinned and shook his head, “Rosalie’s spirit speaks to Raymond’s in a way I’ve not seen before. It is only a matter of time before he can’t help but heed the call.”

“You have the patience of Job, my friend. I would have just told him to get on with it by now.”

Dembe’s face lit with surprised amusement. “Have you told _Rosalie_ such a thing?”

Horace scoffed, “Absolutely not. I value certain parts of my anatomy, thanks very much.”

The pair worked to quickly stifle their chuckling as the other two loaded back into the truck.

Before they pulled away from the spot, Red turned to look at the trunk of the sweeping dogwood tree, noticing a neatly carved ‘R’ on its surface.

Rosalie took them back down the hill and around the property, pointing out various features of the land. There were several fields growing wheat, corn, and other crops, as well as a babbling creek traversing the wooded area. A short ride brought them back to the farmhouse, wherein she gave the men a tour of the rest of the home.

The farmhouse was large, but brimming with coziness. Spacious rooms dotted the floor plan, flowing openly into one another with a relaxed feel. The home was decorated in crisp white, stormy navy blue and the palest sage green. It felt crisp like an autumn morning, yet undeniably warm and comfortable with its brass hardware and wide plank oak floors. Though they shone like new, the boards were held down with old-fashioned handmade nails, the only thing hinting at the home’s age.

Dembe and Horace found the home gym to their tastes, and there was an inviting office toward the back of the house, holding one massive partner’s desk, a pair of tufted suede chairs and the ever-present bookcases Rosalie utilized for secret messages and contraband.

Once all were comfortable with the layout and where everything was, the group split off to pursue their plans for the day. Raymond needed to work on salvaging the botched deal in Havana, so he made for the office.

Rosalie was already camped out on one side of the partner’s desk, an assortment of paperwork and burner phones stacked in front of her. She hadn’t yet settled into her work, and Raymond had just recalled the promise she had made him the day before.

“We need to discuss these blacksite protocols of yours.” He reminded, looking sternly at her.

“Oh?” She asked, wrinkling her nose behind her ledger. She had hoped he would forget.

 _Of course he hadn’t_.

Red eyed the ledger intently, “I was stuck on a plane with a pilot who wouldn’t change course due to your directions.”

Rosalie pursed her lips, the dark grey eyes just peeking over the large book. “I don’t see the issue. Edward’s job was to get you here safely and without distraction. I think he performed flawlessly.”

Red placed a large hand on the middle of the desk and leaned forward. A finger appeared at the top of her ledger, gently pushing it down so he could see her face. “The issue is, when I hear a car slamming into yours over a spotty satellite connection ten thousand feet over the Gulf of Mexico, I _need_ to be able to get to you.”

Rosalie’s mouth twitched, touched by the sentiment. “Raymond, that would go against the entire purpose of the blacksite protocols.”

“I don’t care,” he insisted. “Rosalie, I would have pulled a gun on my own pilot if it meant he would have turned the plane toward D.C.”

The young innkeeper looked up, aghast. “That would hardly have been necessary.” She demanded, concerned for Edward.

“I wouldn’t have pulled the trigger,” Raymond assured her, “but I would have terrorized the man until he caved.”

The conviction in his voice brought the truth crashing down on Rosalie. Raymond would have done exactly as he said, and she knew it.

Unbeknownst to the man in front of her, it was this attitude which kept Rosalie from pursuing him romantically.

They weren’t even dating and yet there seemed to be nothing he wouldn’t do to protect her. Rosalie didn’t want to be such a liability.

The young woman fidgeted. She didn’t want him to put himself in danger on her behalf. However, the man had just made it perfectly clear what actions he would take to protect those closest to him. It wasn’t just for her either, she knew. What if it had been Dembe?

The thought altered her opinion of the matter, and she dropped her pen on the ledger in defeat.

Raymond nodded stiffly, recognizing he had gotten his point across. As he watched her bite her cheek irritably, he offered her an olive branch. “The protocols can stay in place for every other scenario, but where you, Dembe, or Kate are involved, I _need_ to be able to alter the course.

Rosalie sighed tapping her finger distractedly against the ledger’s cover. “Alright,” she groused, “I’ll rewrite the blacksite protocols.”

The man smiled in his infuriatingly pleasant way, bouncing once on the balls of his feet before pulling up the chair opposite her.

“Despot.”

Red caught the comment, his eyes glinting in open amusement.

This was Rosalie’s way of saying she was irritated with him, but not terribly so.

Frankly, he adored getting her in such a state.

The circumstance played out like extended foreplay and usually produced a barrage of incredibly satisfying banter.

“Deviant.” He countered, firing a shot over the bow. Red barely bit back the grin threatening to overcome him as the slate orbs burned with reluctant amusement.

He smirked in anticipation, settling in for a long, enjoyable day of winding her up.  

****************************************************************************************************

By early evening, Rosalie wasn’t sure if she was irritated or aroused. Being cooped up in the office all day with Raymond for company was enjoyable; however, she had learned months ago she couldn’t be in a confined space with the man without eventually wanting to accost him. What was more frustrating was the knowledge he would take quite happily to her accosting.

It was that thought which made her practically leap out of her seat when Horace announced dinner was ready.

Red strolled casually after her, his green orbs merrily eyeing the mesmerizing swish of her backside.

The group chatted animatedly over dinner, enjoying the calm of knowing they wouldn’t have to leave the blacksite for several days. Normally the dinner would be dotted with discussion of plans for transport and locations for the following day. Tonight, they could just relax and enjoy the evening.

Once the plates were cleared and the nightcaps finished, they happily started filtering upstairs for bed.

Raymond made his way to the other end of the hall shortly after the guards seemed asleep. Rosalie’s door was propped open slightly, and he slid into the room without a sound.

The woman was curled up on her side, the blankets on his side of the bed already pulled back, waiting for him. Her right hand was outstretched, laying palm down on the empty space.

A smile tugged at Red’s lips as he slid into the cool sheets, grasping the small hand and placing it against his cheek. The feminine form wiggled across the bed so he could pull her tightly to his chest, letting out a contented sigh as sleep quickly pulled them under.

****************************************************************************************************

Raymond woke early the following morning to a surprisingly empty bed. He listened intently to hear where Rosalie had wandered off to, but could not hear her usual movements. The man groaned as he shifted about, moving to stand and stretch. It was quite early, the sun was just unfurling over the horizon.

Looking out of the big picture window, Red noticed Rosalie walking toward an immaculate stable tucked diagonally behind the house. He decided to take a stroll about the property, and ultimately, see what the young woman was up to.

Fifteen minutes later, Red strode from the back door of the house, dressed in jeans, a baseball cap, and a dark button down. As he meandered up to the building, he could see Rosalie pacing back and forth in the isle, an enormous animal pawing the ground behind her. The woman was also dressed in jeans, with a sky blue button down covering her back. Her blonde hair was tied back in a loose French braid, a tendril or two falling to frame her face.

Red stood in the doorway, admiring the magnificent sooty buckskin she was caring for. The horse was a couple feet taller than Raymond, and looked positively gigantic in comparison to the little woman beside it. However, the creature was immensely gentle, reaching to nibble playfully at the woman’s shirt as she gently brushed him down. Rosalie stepped to the horse’s front, smooching his forehead loudly as she scratched behind his ears. The animal nickered happily, bumping its huge head against the woman’s torso in affection, nearly knocking her over. As she laughed and reached for the animal’s tack, she caught sight of Red standing in the door, watching her.

“Oh! Raymond...” she said in surprise, still holding the heavy tack, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. Is everything alright?”

Red smiled softly, “Yes, my dear, everything is fine. I hope you don’t mind; I was just terribly curious to see where you had scurried off to.”

Rosalie swung the saddle onto the animal’s back, letting out a huff of air before beaming back at her counterpart. “I’m sorry…I just couldn’t resist going out for a ride. I don’t get to come here often enough.” she confided, patting the horse affectionately.

 “A Lusitano?” he asked, recognizing the features of the breed.

 The young woman was impressed, “You know your horses.”

“I own a few myself,” Red commented, stepping into the stable, “Mostly Akhal-Teke racehorses.”

The man puffed up proudly at the surprised admiration in the woman’s gaze. “You are very lucky, those are absolutely spectacular creatures.”

“He’s spectacular.” Red nodded at the buckskin.

The woman smiled fondly at the horse. “Don’t say that too loudly, he’s already got a terrible ego.”

The pair chuckled as the animal tossed its regal head.

There was an awkward silence before Raymond spoke again. “Well,” he said, finding no available excuse to stay in the barn bothering the woman, “I should leave you to your ride.”

He turned to head back to the house, but before he could place a foot over the threshold, Rosalie called out to him.

“Would you join me?”

Red turned back, carefully searching her face, finding her expression genuine.

“I meant… would you like to? I have quite a few horses, and plenty of equipment. I mean, if you’re busy, obviously go do what you need to do. But…” She ceased her babbling as Raymond’s face broke into a warm, genuine smile.

“I would like that.” his deep voice rumbled softly, “Very much.”

Rosalie’s cheeks flushed pleasantly, making her look down at her boots, a soft smile lighting her visage as she nibbled her bottom lip.

Her reaction pleased Red immensely. The blush of her cheeks, the coy glance, it was painfully adorable, making him want to revisit the decision he wouldn’t pursue the woman. At that moment, it seemed like a terribly stupid, outdated notion.

Rosalie swapped out the saddle before gently taking his arm and guiding him down the line of stalls. She told Raymond the history behind each of the horses, what types of riding they were trained for, and how she acquired each of them.

The man listened intently as her gentle voice wove stories of rescues and retirees from a variety of scenarios.

There was a retired thoroughbred from the 1997 Kentucky Derby, a chestnut Arabian mare Rosalie had won in a bet, and even a pair of jet black Percherons which had been rescued from a traveling circus. The gigantic animals were even larger than the woman’s buckskin, standing like two black phantoms in their stalls.

In the last space stood another Lusitano, this one a beautiful snowy white and grey dapple.

Rosalie led him to the stall, unhooking the latch. “This is _Orquedia,_ she came to me along with her big beau over there. She nodded in the direction of the sooty buckskin waiting patiently in the isle.

“What is the beau’s name?” Red asked, reaching out so the mare could sniff his hand.

“ _Matador,_ they’re both retired from Madrid’s mounted police force.”

Orquedia leaned into the man’s hand, content to let him pet her.

“I think she likes me.” quipped Raymond smugly.

Rosalie rolled her eyes good-naturedly, clipping a lead to the horse’s harness. “Of course she likes you, you’re a notorious ladies man. I’m sure she couldn’t resist your charms.” The woman was teasing, but not by much. She knew better than anyone the man was a flirtatious thing.

Red smirked, taking the lead and following Rosalie into the isle a few feet behind the other horse.

He stroked the mare’s nose gently as Rosalie stepped into the tack room, coming out with a bridle and breast collar in black leather. She slipped the bridle on and connected the straps of the breast collar before leading Raymond into the tack room. The woman grabbed a deep green saddle pad while he hoisted the black saddle into strong arms.

Once both horses were ready, they unhitched the pair and Red swung up into the saddle. He looked ahead at Rosalie’s horse, noting the tack was smaller and looked to be side saddle.

Rosalie saw him staring questioningly at the piece of tack, letting out a small laugh. “Matador is trained for side saddle. You’ll see why in a moment.” Red watched as Rosalie’s lithe form swung up into the saddle effortlessly, her right leg swinging back over the pummel. She and Matador trotted out of the barn first, turning about in the open drive, the gelding waiting on tenterhooks for his lady friend.

Red clicked the snowy dapple forward, the horse trotting gracefully out into the courtyard. The mare turned of her own accord, pulling up along Rosalie’s right side.

The horses stood ear to ear, however the young innkeeper was still shorter than Raymond, and turned to look slightly up at him. Without giving her horse a command, the large buckskin sidled closer to the mare, bumping his side with hers.

The horse’s bulk bumped against Raymond’s leg, making him look down and chuckle.

“And that’s why I’m riding side saddle.” Rosalie explained with a tinkling laugh. “Matador likes to cozy up to her, and if I were sitting astride, you and I would be knocking boots all day.”

Raymond grinned, waiting for the double entendre to register.

“ _Knees._ ” Rosalie grimaced putting a hand over her eyes, “We would be knocking _knees_ all day.”

She glared at Raymond who let out a bellowing roar of laughter.

“My God, if I knew an entire day of boot-knocking was on the table, I would have insisted you sit astride _._ ” He teased merrily, enjoying the radiant blush flooding her cheeks.

****************************************************************************************************

Once recovered from her faux pas, Rosalie led them through one of the nearby pastures onto a quiet dirt lane bordered by tall hornbeams and thick rose bushes.

Their mounts walked side by side, Matador occasionally bumping against Orquedia, and by extension, Raymond. The man smirked whenever it happened.

“So, what happened between you and Castro?” Rosalie asked. She had been curious about the events which had brought them to the blacksite, waiting until they were truly alone to discuss the matter.

Red sighed, “It was meant to be a simple exchange of weapons and information, a common transaction. I thought the information Castro had regarding some small trade movement near the Belarus border might shine a light on who hired Patrick’s killer.”

“Did it?” The woman asked eagerly. Rosalie could tell by the twitch in Raymond’s eye, the culprit walking away unchecked had been bothering him deeply.

The man shook his head, “I never found out. When we pulled up to the safehouse and Castr was already there… It was enough to convince me there was something else going on. Once he opened up about his true intentions, calling you for a blacksite was the only option.”

Rosalie was bothered by this information. “How did he find you?”

Red tilted his head back and forth. “We think we were followed one night. Dembe had mentioned something glinting in the rear-view mirror. I didn’t think anything of it, but now I wonder if it wasn’t a car tailing us with its lights off.”

The young innkeeper pursed her lips, concerned at the ease with which the men were found. “That’s unnerving. I’ll need to locate a more discreet option for Havana. Perhaps a blacksite.”

Raymond turned his head, seeing the woman’s brow furrowed in concentration, mentally calculating all the weak points of the Havana safehouse.

He nudged his horse towards hers, keeping close as they continued their walk. “Your location was fine. As you said, the network is impregnable as long as it’s accessed properly.”

Her scowl lessened slightly, “Still, I’m concerned you were able to be found in the first place. Having a blacksite there couldn’t hurt.”

“No, it certainly wouldn’t.” He agreed, bowing to her logic.

“What were Castro’s true intentions?”

Raymond’s eyes narrowed into the distance. “He wanted me to help facilitate a deal which I found unpalatable.”

Rosalie turned to look at him in shock. She and Raymond were both criminals, certainly, but this didn’t mean they were completely without morals. In reality, they both operated under their own set of ethics so to speak. Rosalie was terribly curious what Castro had wanted which had so obviously clashed with Raymond’s code.

“What was the purpose of the deal?”

Red’s lip curled in distaste. “A nasty security measure to locate Cuban citizens who have been in exile and have them killed. He’s been worried about another Bay of Pigs altercation. Obviously, he still holds a deep-seated grudge with the United States.”

The young woman grimaced, “Why on earth would he think you’d be interested in such a thing? Murdering hundreds of thousands of civilians simply because they left a failing country on the brink of famine? Honestly, it would be more likely you’d be supplying the boats to get them _off_ the island.” Rosalie hit her stride, not noticing the soft grin lighting Raymond’s features.

“It's always baffling how the lower sect of criminals, the ‘warlords’, dictators, and their ilk, have no concept of logic. We’re criminals, not savages. There at least needs to be a grain of sense in our dealings, even if we operate beyond the lines of legality. Running at problems like bulls in a china shop, taking up boy soldiers as a substitute for garnering genuine loyalty, none of that garbage creates the stable empires they’re so desperately trying to construct. What a bunch of imbeciles.”

Red laughed aloud, thoroughly enjoying her disgruntled tirade. “Well I’m glad at least you see the truth of the matter.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, nonplussed.

“All that will be said, should my meetings with Castro see the light of day, is _‘Infamous Traitor Raymond Reddington Conspires with Cold War Dictator.’_ ” His tone was nonchalant, but Rosalie could hear the irritation lying underneath.

She had wondered about Raymond’s highly publicized treason since the beginning of their arrangement. Having been with him nearly every day for the past nine months, she could honestly say she found the whole matter rather fishy. Raymond just didn’t seem the type.

Rosalie had dealt with many a traitor, it was simply unavoidable in her line of work. Covert intelligence peddlers, disavowed rebels, whistle-blowers and their comrades always seemed to find her doorstep. Some were loathsome creatures, buying into her network as a haven from rightful prosecution. They were often miraculously discovered before they reached the safehouse. Others were simply running from a corrupt system which destroyed their innocence, desolated their families, and burned their communities to the ground. And yet _they_ were the ones who were called deserters, terrorists, or worse. Those were the ones for whom Rosalie provided safe harbour.

“Did you do it?” Her tone belied her speculation over the matter.

Raymond turned to placidly meet her eyes, “What do you think?”

“I think you don’t strike me as a traitor.” She stated honestly, her brow furrowing. “Yet you also don’t strike me as an American. You seem to be about as American as I am.”

Red’s green eyes watched her intently, trying to discern her thoughts.

She quirked a brow knowingly at him, intimating she had guessed a few things about his past.

Rather than feeling the usual sense of fear and suspicion, Raymond found himself feeling a tiny flicker of relief. It was only speculation on her part, and oddly enough, even if she had miraculously guessed it all, the man knew she wouldn’t say a word.

There was an underlying trust between them, almost as implicit as the trust he held in Dembe, which told him she would hold such a secret in utmost confidence. An unspoken understanding passed between them as they eyed each other cautiously.

Rosalie had her suspicions, but she wasn’t going to pester him for the truth because it didn’t matter. She simply wanted him to know, should the truth out, should he need help, she would be there. The thought made Red’s chest thrum with an old familiar emotion. It squeezed at him, pressing him to see her in a new light.

He hadn’t told anyone the truth about his life since the day he had taken in Dembe. The young boy, broken and afraid, had offered Raymond a unique kind of camaraderie in that moment.

Dembe shared with him an understanding of what it was like to have been someone else entirely before having the darkest pieces of humanity thrust upon you.

That discussion had been the beginning of their incredible friendship. Much to Red’s surprise, Rosalie’s eyes now held the same warmth, the same understanding as Dembe’s had.

Raymond cleared his throat, answering her previous question. “Being on the run for years tends to give one certain qualities of ambiguity. It suits me well not to strike anyone as any particular nationality.”

Rosalie smirked at the certainly reasonable explanation, noting how it effectively diverted the conversation toward safer waters.

“The story of my treachery was spread far and wide by an organization called The Cabal.” Raymond explained, allowing her a small glimpse into the murky depths of his past.

“Do you think this Cabal is responsible for Patrick’s death?” She asked, careful not to pry too far.

Red shook his head confidently. “No. They wouldn’t risk retribution over someone like Patrick. I told them I have something which could expose them all, so they’ve left me alone these past nine years.”

“Do you have something which could expose them?” she questioned in surprise.

“Not in my possession.” His words were chosen carefully.

Rosalie wasn’t fooled. “You have an idea of where it is, surely.”

“Yes,” agreed Raymond, “An idea, but extracting the information is not an option.”

Keen grey eyes eyed him carefully. “You’re protecting what holds the information.”

“Yes.”

The woman nodded, halting any further questions. Truthfully, she didn’t need to know. Rosalie could empathize with Raymond’s desire for secrecy. She held the truth of her own past most covetously, not wanting anyone to discover who she was.

“I would hope this goes without saying, but should you ever need my assistance in any of it, Raymond, my network and I are at your disposal. You need only ask.”

A friendly smile passed her lips as she clicked the horse into a canter, allowing the gelding to stretch his long legs and giving Raymond a reprieve from the rather intense conversation.

Raymond let out a relieved sigh, looking thoughtfully at the woman before taking off after her.

After returning from their morning ride, Raymond and Rosalie set the two Lusitanos loose in the pasture near the house. The pair seemed quite content after their vigorous exercise, trotting alongside each other around the fence’s perimeter.

Rosalie had challenged Red to a race up the drive to the main house. He had accepted with a competitive grin, and as they turned the last curve onto the drive, the pair had taken great joy in letting their steeds run with it. Matador and Orquedia seemed to know there were stakes involved, their long legs taking to the task with incredible speed.

Dembe and Horace had been standing stoically on the front porch, ready to chastise them for running off without security again. The pair were thoroughly showered in gravel as the two fugitives came hurtling past, laughing like mad.

*************************************************************************************************

_Two Days Later_

 

Life at the blacksite was actually quite enjoyable. It was almost as if they had all instantaneously retired.

Raymond and Rosalie ran their business from the massive partner’s desk in the office, now littered with files and paperwork organized by a system only the two of them could comprehend. Though they were kept from physically attending to their respective dealings, quite a lot seemed to get done in a short amount of time.

Rosalie located a prospective blacksite in Havana and had signed the papers for the purchase of another somewhere in New England.

Raymond managed to secure the weapons which had been left at the house in Havana, and completely derailed a massive deal of Castro’s with the same group of Bosnians who had sold Red the warehouse in Bulgaria.

The man had thoroughly enjoyed orchestrating the bit of skullduggery in the dead of night with a certain innkeeper cradled against his chest. The woman lay there giggling as she listened in on every word.

Rosalie had not taken kindly to Castro’s treatment of him, and had been thrilled at hearing Raymond’s plot for retribution.

She had also been all too willing to supply a devious addendum to add insult to injury.

While Red turned the Bosnians against the deal, his little hellcat secured safe passage for them out of Cuba with not only the weapons in tow, but _several_ cases of cigars from Castro’s own collection.

Her feminine figure was sprawled on the bed beside him, rotated so her slender legs crossed vertically against the headboard. She looked much like she had that night at The Cherry, sinfully relaxed as she twitched the strings of her dastardly plan.

Raymond watched her avidly in the dark, listening as she conversed in rapid Spanish with several disgruntled maids and a valet, all of whom took the woman up on her offer of transport from the country in exchange for pilfering the cigars.

She certainly was a wily thing.

Should Raymond ever somehow forget Rosalie was a bona fide criminal, he need only look back on that night. The woman had made a clear, calculating move. She didn’t go for Castro’s money, his homes, or his cars.

She went straight for the jugular and nicked the man’s hand-rolled Cohibas.

A mischievous laugh warmed the room as Raymond ran a tickling hand up the smooth skin of her leg.

Rosalie pursed her lips as the man’s fingertips started at her ankle and trickled down the elevated appendage to her thigh. She lost her train of thought seeing the clever eyes of Raymond Reddington looking at her like she was something to eat.

It seemed her criminal antics had unknowingly stoked the fire.

Rosalie pulled the phone away from her mouth as he reached to thumb her chin. A man could get himself into a lot of trouble teasing at her like that. She leaned forward and nipped the digit playfully, drawing him out of his haze.

Raymond pulled back his hand with a laugh and pinched her thigh in retaliation.

The young woman rolled her eyes, merrily swatting at his hand and carrying on her conversation as though nothing was amiss.

*************************************************************************************************

The following morning, the sound of Dembe making his way down the hall carried into the bedroom, waking Raymond who was pressed tightly against Rosalie.

They had turned in the night so Raymond was wrapped protectively around her. The position was comfortable and intimate, with the entirety of Rosalie’s pert backside nestled against Red’s pelvis. The man’s fingers twitched against her soft skin, having snuck up the silk top to feel the gentle thrum of her heartbeat against her ribcage.

Red was loathe for either of them to leave the bed today. Having the warm woman cradled against him like this was a circumstance which he felt warranted his undivided attention.

Waves of honey blonde tresses shone in the early morning light beside him, grazing Raymond’s cheek as the tip of his nose traced the woman’s collarbone. He reached with the arm pinned beneath the pillows and tucked a few stray strands behind her ear, exposing more of her neck to his exploration.

The movement must have tickled, though, as Rosalie squirmed a bit before nestling back into his embrace.

Her wiggling caused the curve of her backside to accidentally nudge Red’s hips.

The little minx wasn’t wearing a damn thing beneath her shorts, and the man’s breath hitched audibly when he felt his morning erection slide along the silk covered crevice between her cheeks.

A hungry growl rolled through Raymond’s chest as Rosalie mewed and rocked her hips backward into the hard bulge again. Her brows knit together in concentration as she continued rubbing against him in her sleep.

The action made Red chuckle even as he hissed through gritted teeth. _This was unexpected._

She was a determined little thing, dragging her peachy backside along his rigid flesh without mercy.

“ _Christ, woman._ ” He grunted against her neck, his heavy cock straining at the stimulation. Frissons of pleasure compelled Raymond to buck his hips against her in search of more.

The thrust eased a breathy sigh from Rosalie’s lips, a triumphant smile appearing as she bit her bottom lip.

The adorably mischievous expression was his undoing.

Raymond pulled his hand from her shirt and grasped the hips which had been tormenting him.

A pout replaced Rosalie’s smile, and a whine of annoyance issued from her throat as she pushed back in search of him.

“As much as I would _love_ for you to continue accosting my person,” he placated in her ear, “We need to stop.”

Rosalie grumbled, wiggling her backside into his lap, insolently indicating she would rather resume her previous pleasurable pursuits.

The renewed stimulation made Red’s pelvis rock hard into hers, teasing a small moan from her lips. Raymond’s large hand grasped her hips again as he scrambled to regain control.

“Dembe has been up for approximately nine minutes. Which means we have all of _one_ minute to get you out of this bed and into a less compromising position.”

“Hmm… let them find out.” She mumbled sleepily, “Then we can do this every night.”

Raymond relinquished his hold with a discontented sigh. “You are a terrible little tease.” He groused, rolling to lay on his back, away from the tantalizing curve of her derrière.

Rosalie sat up, dozily stretching and letting out an impish giggle before her breath caught in her throat.

Raymond popped open a bleary eye, wondering what had halted her humour.

The little deviant was staring rather lasciviously at the bulge situated between his legs. The fabric of the bed’s blankets covered Red from the waist down, tenting at the spot where her eyes were glued.

“Rosalie…” the man warned, the look in her eyes stoking the flame of lust her actions had already ignited.

Her head turned slowly toward him, a small ‘o’ of intrigue parting her pink lips. The expression was terribly endearing, but what it did to the man she was eyeing…he had difficulty putting into words.

“...Hmm?” Rosalie asked vacantly, blinking those pools of liquid metal at him. She was completely lost as to what she was supposed to be doing.

“Get out of my bed before I decide to tie you to it.” Red growled darkly, looking to shock her out of her dazed state. Imagine his delighted agony when her entire body flushed scarlet and she lifted a lone eyebrow, not budging an inch. The expression looked an awful lot like a challenge, making the man’s mind burn with intense curiosity.

Raymond and Rosalie had spoken at length about the merits and philosophies behind sex and all things taboo on their nights out. In truth, they enjoyed the topic immensely. Raymond remembered one night in Rome particularly vividly.

They had strolled about the bright, bustling piazzas until the wee hours of the morning discussing books like _Histoire d’O_ and _Delta of Venus_. However, the man realized they hadn’t stopped their philosophical discussion to expound upon their own experiences, a most grievous oversight on his part.

Most unfortunately, they didn’t have time to discuss the topic right now. Raymond made a mental note to return to the conversation later. When they were quite alone. When he could listen to every vivid detail.

“Rosalie-”

“I’m _thinking_.” She insisted, her eyes glinting with suppressed amusement.

He reiterated, “Horace is going to catch you sneaking out of this room in thirty seconds.”

Rosalie’s face dropped comically. “ _Damn_ ” she hissed, leaping out of the bed and scurrying across the room amid Raymond’s deep, throaty chuckle.

The man fell back into the sheets with a weary sigh, willing his throbbing erection to go down while he listened to the woman’s small feet pattering down the hall.

A quickly stifled squeak of surprise and a deep, smooth laugh told him she had run into Dembe. The thought made Red laugh anew, picturing the knowing grin the young bodyguard was undoubtedly flashing her.

They had been cutting it fine, indeed, if she was encountering Dembe on her way back to her room. Red turned to his side, pulling one of the pillows to his torso. The delicate scent of the feminine creature previously occupying the pillow filled his mind with a warm haze. They really _ought_ to sleep in their own beds. The thought flitted out of his mind just as quickly as it had entered.

Sleeping ensconced together after the Munich debacle seemed to have opened a door to temptation they weren’t easily able to close. The continued proximity and affection naturally guided them toward acting on their desires, and it was getting harder and harder to resist.

It certainly didn’t help the two seemed to be pseudo-masochists about it either. They developed a terrible habit of getting as close to breaking their self-imposed rules as they dared before reality reared its ugly head.  

Though they couldn’t cross that line, they were having a terribly good time toeing it.

The morning’s activities were a stellar example of the pair momentarily and spectacularly losing their grip. If Horace hadn’t been an immediate issue, Raymond knew without question he wouldn’t have stopped Rosalie’s pursuits. Truthfully, left unchecked, he would have enjoyed taking their explorations much further.

This thought did nothing to ease the ache in his groin, the appendage standing resolutely out in front of him as he got out of bed. Red huffed and headed for the master bath, intent on taking the matter in hand before he could accidentally encounter the little creature responsible for it.

*************************************************************************************************

_Two days later_

Their time at the safehouse was drawing all too quickly to an end. The issue with Castro was safely diffused, and their next location secured and waiting. Edward would be arriving the following day to take them back to reality.

Raymond and Rosalie were rather put out, truth told. Both had immensely enjoyed the freedom and quiet the home had offered.

The afternoon before their departure, the pair decided to take a long walk along the path where they had ridden that morning, as had become their custom over the weeklong furlough.

Raymond regaled story after story, weaving tales of the wild heists conducted in his early days as a criminal. Rosalie’s tinkling laugh echoed along the lane as he told her a particularly enthralling story about getting gored in the backside by a wild pig in the Forest of Dean.

“There’s going to be a storm,” she sighed morosely, “We’ll have to head inside soon.”

Raymond grasped her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. “Just a little while longer, the clouds aren’t moving too fast.”

The young woman’ eyes glanced at the dark clouds in the distance. “I predict there will be one clap of thunder followed by a torrential downpour.”

Red chuckled, shaking his head. “Come now, my dear, where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Oh I have no intention of squashing our fun.” She tittered, patting his arm fondly. “I just hope you know we’ll be getting soaked in about five minutes.”

The pair continued their leisurely stroll, grossly unconcerned about the ominous clouds encroaching with each step.

As they turned onto the long driveway leading up to the house, Raymond’s eyes squinted thoughtfully up at the live oak trees bordering the lane. “The world’s oldest commissioned naval vessel still afloat is made of southern live oak. A three masted heavy frigate from the War of 1812. Her hull was so strong 18 pound cast iron cannon balls would bounce off like they were made of rubber.”

Rosalie nodded, smiling. “‘ _Old Ironsides’_ they called her.”

Red let out an amused chuckle, “God, what a nickname.”

A thundering boom echoed across the property shrouding the sky in dense, almost black clouds. The storm had descended upon them.

The pair looked up as raindrops began to fall, slowly at first, then building to a torrential downpour.

Rosalie laughed, impishly waggling her eyebrows in victory as her prediction came true.

Rather than hurry themselves along, the two continued their leisurely stroll up the drive, laughing as their clothes became drenched.

When they had made halfway up the drive, Rosalie turned, reaching up to swipe a few raindrops form the rim of Raymond’s fedora. She was soaked to the skin but the sound of his voice as he relived the tall tale had left her burning. Her grey eyes danced with mischief as she tugged him beneath the branches of one of the live oaks. The trunk was more than wide enough to hide them from sight, and the massive branch above gave them shelter from the downpour.

Red watched with heated intrigue as her gaze darkened.

Rosalie turned, pinning him against the tree and pressing her mouth to his.

Her soft, sweet lips caressed him with the same burning electricity that they had in New York. This time, however, the woman leaned in, deepening the contact.

The move took Red by surprise, but he found himself readily acquiescing to her every whim. His lips moved to meet hers, wanting more of what she was offering.

Rosalie nipped him playfully, drawing a grunt of approval from her partner’s throat. The sound fuelled the fire pooling in her belly as she pressed herself closer to his warmth.

Raymond responded in kind, snaking his arms around her and pulling her tightly to him. One hand penetrated her top, splaying across the small of her back while the other threaded a finger through the belt loop at her hip, allowing a broad thumb to tease the skin exposed by his wandering.

The light brushes of his thumb and the heavy weight of his hand on her back had Rosalie practically purring with contentment. Her own hands had wriggled the top buttons of his shirt open, glad he had forgone his usual tie. One hand was happily exploring the wealth of downy chest hair there while the other teased his neck and scalp with featherlight touches. The combination gave him goosebumps as her mouth continued devouring his hungrily.

Each was delightedly learning what pleased the other, using the noises issuing from them as a guide. Every whimper and moan lead them to new and exciting discoveries. Rosalie found little nips drove the man wild while Raymond discovered suckling her bottom lip just right made the woman’s knees quake.

Raymond reached to cup her cheek, holding her to his pleasure as his arm tightened around the little waist pressed against him. His burning tongue swiped at her kiss-swollen lips, demanding to taste her.

Rosalie complied with a needy mew, her hands gripping his chest tightly as she opened to him.

Captivated by the woman’s response, Red wasted no time in plundering her hot little mouth with fervour. The talented appendage explored her depths, stopping to tangle with the tiny tongue he had discovered within.

The relentless seduction had Rosalie quivering in Red’s grasp, enticing him to tease her further.

Red felt the ache which had been building between them since New Year’s ease ever so slightly.

They had needed this. The desire to touch and be touched had been permeating their every waking moment, making the past few months a special brand of delicious torture. Finally feeling her delectable curves pressed intimately against him, finally getting to taste that sweet little mouth, it calmed something in Raymond that had been burning since that night.  

His tongue slid past her lips rhythmically, mimicking the slow, gentle thrusts of lovemaking. The sensual action pulled a tremulous whine from the woman that shot straight to Raymond’s pelvis. A deep groan of arousal issued from him, sending a tickling vibration through their lips.

Though Rosalie’s devious little tongue had happily taken his ravishing, the minute muscle soon became demanding, battling Raymond back so she could taste him too.

Red allowed it with a feverish moan of approval.

Rosalie explored his mouth languidly, taking her time in learning him. Her hot little tongue stroked and massaged every scorching corner of him until he shivered in delight.

Raymond had found most women preferred him to be the dominant one when engaging in intimacy, which was truthfully, quite enjoyable. However, it was always thrilling to encounter a woman that also enjoyed taking the reins. Such a woman was infinitely more attractive, infinitely more intriguing, and so damn arousing, it made the man’s cock twitch.

A greedy whimper escaped Rosalie’s throat as she felt the thick shaft flex against her hip. The sensation bringing the walls of her resolve crashing down.

Her responsiveness touched Raymond to his core. It told him what he had been feeling since that night in New York, she had been feeling too.

Rosalie had needed this, needed him, as much as he needed her.

The low, rumbling noises of arousal that vibrated from his torso made her body ache, a slick, wet heat pooling between her thighs.

The kiss bared her to Raymond. The little pink tongue whispered the truth to her would-be lover, telling him what kind of lover _she_ could be.

Rosalie would submit and bend to his desires. _Oh yes_. She could be a sweet little darling when the mood struck, but she wasn’t one-sided.

Raymond had learned by now how multi-faceted the woman was. She could give as well as take. Rosalie would defy him and demand what she wanted. The little minx would seduce him into submitting too, until he was readily bending to _her_ desires in their quest for mutual pleasure. With Rosalie, Raymond would enjoy all the delights duality could offer.

The very thought had the man palming her backside, bringing her hips to press harder against his rigid length.

Another deafening boom of thunder shook the air around them, jostling the pair from their heated exploration.

Raymond took deep, steadying breaths as he looked down at the woman encased in his arms. Her pupils were blown wide and her breasts heaved against him as she shivered. It was an enticing picture that shook the man to his core.

A soft smile tugged at Rosalie’s kiss-swollen lips, enjoying the disheveled state Raymond was in. She thought he looked terribly handsome, soaking wet and tousle-haired.

*************************************************************************************************

The storm continued through dinner, where Raymond and Rosalie couldn’t help but be distracted. They were repeatedly caught looking at one another in something akin to surprise. Neither was certain where they stood after their mutual resolve had snapped so spectacularly earlier.

Once they had regained their composure, the pair had stridden into the house in search of a hot shower and dry clothes.

Horace and Dembe were more than a little suspicious at their sodden and unusually quiet state, but seemed to have opted for quiet observation rather than direct questioning.

Dinner passed quietly, and once the plates were cleared, the house’s occupants separated to finish packing their belongings. 

Not ready to face Raymond quite yet, Rosalie stepped out onto the sprawling porch, a glass of gin in hand.

The men in the house had no knowledge of the significance of the home.

The woman’s slender fingers reached out to touch the white wooden porch swing. Her fingertips traced lovingly along its frame, remembering every notch and detail.

The swing had been there for as long as Rosalie could remember, back when she was a little girl; when she was someone else entirely.

Her parents had sat on this very swing with her as the summer storms would roll in, creating a warm, loving cocoon around their daughter.

Rosalie loved the storms for this very reason.

The roll of thunder, the pounding of rain and hail as the world was torn asunder outside, it felt like home.

Perhaps that was why she was so adept at being a criminal.

She could revel even in the darkest storms.

****************************************************************************************************

Red waited half an hour before going in search of Rosalie.

Rolling up the sleeves of his button down, he took the staircase two at a time.

She hadn’t come to his room, and to his surprise, she wasn’t in hers either, nor was she in the office. As the man walked through the first floor, he noticed the front doors of the house were still open wide.

Raymond stepped out onto the porch, seeing the small form curled up in the large swing.

Flashes of lightning lit the night periodically, casting a white and blue glow over the property before sending thunder through the air like cannon fire.

The young woman was asleep, a soft smile on her lips.

Red watched her for a moment as she slept soundly, the storm still raging on.

The deafening sounds didn’t bother her in the slightest.

The man chuckled softly, thinking it the very manifestation of her true nature.

She was the calm in the storm. The peace below the winds.

Raymond bent down and gently scooped the feminine form into his strong arms.

He walked quietly into the house, nodding at Dembe, who moved to close the front doors. Without a word, the older man carried his counterpart up the large staircase to the second floor.

Rosalie stirred as he reached the landing, her eyes lifted to search his features.

His expression was calm, warm and affectionate as he looked down at her.

She reached a hand up to stroke the stubble on his cheek.

The man’s mouth twitched at the corner as he sauntered down the hall, brushing his nose teasingly against hers.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: Back in the Swing
> 
> "Now, what manner of chaos have you managed to orchestrate today, my dear?"  
> The woman batted her eyelashes coyly as she looked up past the brim of his fedora.  
> “I told him the Contrada Pantera could sell me the horse and treat their jockey like a human being, or, I could funnel my considerable wealth and talents into assisting their rival, the Contrada dell’Aquila. I’ve heard they are _quite _the handful.”__  
>  Raymond and the other men roared with laughter as Rosalie gave a sardonic little curtsy.  
> “And that’s the story of how I bought a racehorse from the Palio of July 1999.”


	13. Back in the Swing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok...guys...guys, I am so so sorry this took so long. 
> 
> I had the best laid plans with this chapter and it got SO out of hand.  
> The characters were not behaving. They were everywhere.  
> They did everything they weren't supposed to be doing.  
> They found extraneous characters that were never supposed to be there.  
> It has been a problem.
> 
> I've split this chapter into three because it got so incredibly long, and I should have the next one out in less than a week. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience, and as always, I love to hear your comments!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: "Who's Got the Action?" by Dean Martin
> 
> Inspiration for the Lazuli Safehouse in Port of Spain  
> https://www.7thheavenproperties.com/real-estate/trinidad-and-tobago/4-bedroom-luxury-apartments-sale-port-of-spain/
> 
> Inspiration for Stratos's Villa in Siena  
> https://www.engelvoelkers.com/en-it/property/tower-house-in-the-historic-centre-3830721.1262573_exp/
> 
> Rosalie's Palio Outfit - (Because I am f***ing obsessed with it.)  
> https://www.pinterest.com/pin/333196072404039349/

_Lazuli Safehouse - Port of Spain, Trinidad & Tobago - June 28th, 1999 _

Rosalie stood in the lounge of her high-rise in Port of Spain with her back to the seating area. The slate eyes scowled at the opposite wall, determined to make sense of the jumbled puzzle before her. 

A room divider made of glass panels and dark metal was being utilized for her musings; its surfaces now held a timeline of surveillance photos, receipts, and various other scraps of information. 

Reddington had lost another associate in June, and though the loss was a lesser blow than Patrick, it had still rattled their quartet.

The assassin was quickly tracked down and disposed of, citing the same tale Altan had in Munich. As Brimley had put it, the transaction was cleaner than Mrs. Howzer’s blackboard on a Monday morning.

The lack of headway on the perpetrator had Raymond seething for the past two weeks. 

Rosalie, determined to find the hole in their boat, had taken their stockpile of intel and sequestered herself in the lounge.

In the almost eleven months since their partnership began, she had lost four homes in four rather prominent locations.

The safehouse in Havana and the condo in São Paulo had been disposed of, she also sold the safehouse Altan had chartered in Munich as well as the Liberty safehouse in D.C. for the sake of caution. Though São Paulo was replaced before the end of last year and Munich followed shortly thereafter, the blacksite in Havana was still under construction, and D.C. had just sold in a black market sale.

Three of the four homes were burnt due to their unseen adversary.

Replacing homes was an expensive and time-consuming endeavour which Rosalie admitted she did not enjoy. In actuality, it was one of the most risky aspects of her business. 

Her organization’s initial contact with the sellers of these locations was the only time in which Rosalie could be linked to the property. It was paramount to her safety and the well-being of the network that this connection never see the light of day. For this, the young woman trusted in her accountant, Luli Zeng. 

Rosalie’s faith in Luli was unshakeable. 

They had met in college several years ago and had grown quite close, having shared a dorm room and eventually an apartment in the four years they had spent at Stanford. They were cut from the same cloth in many ways, and over the years Rosalie grew to consider the woman her nearest and dearest friend. 

Luli had taken the traditional finance route, and was succeeding at every turn in her position with SAL Capital. However, she had confessed a few years prior that she found the work lacklustre. Luli knew what her old friend was up to, and propositioned her as a shadow financier. 

Rosalie took her up on the offer immediately, confident the woman would be a trustworthy and invaluable asset.

Luli succeeded in building a maze of shell corporations around Rosalie’s empire, a protective financial barrier that made Rosalie’s movements impossible to track. 

This left Rosalie free to focus on accumulating locations for the network, as well as garnering a web of loyal associates and clients to keep the show running. The system was fine-tuned and fortified over the past four years. Rosalie structured the network in a way which could function from the shadows in perpetuity, barring any unprecedented massacres. 

The young woman made a mental note to call her friend that night. She was certain Lu was not the issue, but she might have knowledge of potential weak spots.

Raymond stepped into the room, watching the frustrated woman scowl at the photographs. Her arms were crossed, and she tapped the end of a pen irritably against her lips as her mind whirred in the background.

“I’m missing something.” She grumbled, noticing the man’s presence. “We’re missing something, I can feel it.”

He tried to soothe her frustrations, “Rosalie, I keep a running tally of every person I’ve ever swindled, every player whose boat I’ve rocked, everyone I’ve ever wronged. Not one of them looks to be the one responsible.”

“How can you be sure?” She sighed, tilting her head to see if the information made more sense when viewed at an angle.

Red stared fixedly at the board. “My people always follow through.” He intoned evasively.

The young woman turned to look at him, understanding the truth behind the phrase. “You’re having them watched? All of them?” 

He nodded minutely. “My enemies, their families, their friends, I know their each and every move. It’s been critical to my success.”

“And none of them have drawn suspicion?” She asked, a modicum of disbelief creeping into her voice.

The man sing-songed his head, “No more than usual.” 

“There must be something we’re missing…”

Rosalie’s mouth moved wordlessly as she muttered to herself, too focused on the board to finish her thought or meet Raymond’s eyes.

If she had, she would have found a most peculiar look on his face.

Red had noticed Rosalie’s restlessness these past few weeks. She was not used to bringing her criminal prowess to the fore and coming up empty handed. 

Raymond understood now, she was feeling just as attacked as he was.

“Perhaps it’s not an enemy?” She continued, “Do any of your direct competitors have the ability or desire to challenge you in such a way?”

“Oh there’s always the desire to challenge.” Red shook his head, more than a few individuals coming to mind. “Unfortunately, there isn’t a single one with the money or influence to keep this quiet.”

“What do you mean?”

Raymond turned to meet her gaze. “It’s easy to buy someone’s head. It’s even easier to purchase information. The test of a criminal empire like mine, like the one undoubtedly chasing us, is how well kept its secrets are. Its weak points, Rosalie. Those take money and influence to hide.” They both grimaced at the photos of Patrick’s crime scene. “Whomever is behind this has big secrets, a wealth of influence, and even deeper pockets.”

A knock sounded at the entrance and the man heaved a disgruntled sigh, shaking his head and prodding his tongue into his cheek.

Rosalie dropped her hand to squeeze his before calling for the individual to enter.

Dembe strode in with a burner held aloft. “Raymond, it’s Stratos.”

Red took the phone. “Yeah.”

The suave voice of Stratos Sarantos, Raymond’s head of Mediterranean shipping operations, echoed through the connection. “Raymond! I have good news.” 

“That makes one of us.” Red groused, watching as Rosalie made a request of Dembe before turning back to the board and shifting some of the pieces about.

“Don’t sound so sullen,” Stratos advised his friend, “Your little rum-runner through Corfu worked like a charm. The shipment was early, the payment is in, and I scored us a little _lagniappe_.”

Raymond’s mouth twitched reluctantly. “If it has anything to do with Vienna, you’re on your own.”

Rosalie sniggered indelicately, recalling the tale of Stratos and a devious young woman in Vienna. It involved his pants being unceremoniously chucked out of a 13th floor balcony.

Red smirked at the chortling woman, bumping his shoulder playfully against hers. “Rosalie might join you, though.”

The woman turned a scandalized glance his way, actually garnering a deep chuckle from the grump.

“It has nothing to do with that Austrian wasp,” Stratos defended staunchly, “And if you aren’t careful I’ll take your little innkeeper and Dembe, and leave you behind.”

“And what a relaxing time I’d have.” He retorted, “Stop stalling, what prize did you acquire?”

Red could hear the excitement in the other man’s voice as he divulged the unexpected treat.

“I’ve got the front row for Siena, July 2nd.”

“Siena?” Raymond questioned, the date and location ringing a bell.

“ _Il Palio di Siena_.” Confirmed Stratos, utterly beside himself.

Red roared with laughter, “How the hell did you manage that?”

“It’s why you hire me,” the man shrugged, “If I don’t meet your expectations, I exceed them.”

Both men chuckled at this, the inflated statement not entirely untrue.

“Come to Siena, Raymond, bring Dembe and your little sousouradá. We’ll bet, we’ll bribe, we’ll make a week of it.”

Red looked at the little woman fretting over the intel and felt his stomach flip. She was so tense, so restless, chasing their invisible foe. They could both use a break, and she would look stunning in the Piazza del Campo under a golden sun.

When her nervous grey eyes swivelled to meet his, Red made an executive decision. Rotating to stand in front of her, he cupped her face and pulled her close, nuzzling her nose and cheeks until she giggled openly.

“Raymond, I didn’t realize you had company.” Stratos intoned lewdly, hearing the feminine sound through the connection.

The young woman quirked mischievous brows at him as he ran a finger across her plump pink lips. 

“I’m going to enjoy taking your money.” Red growled brazenly, grinning as Rosalie kissed his thumb, her tongue sneaking out to flick its tip playfully. “And so is my little innkeeper.” 

“ _Oh-Ho?_ ” Stratos boomed with laughter, completely unaware of the rapidly heating tension on the other end of the line. “I’ll leave you to count your chickens with your cheeky associate. Dembe will have my address.”

“We’ll see you in a few hours.” Red agreed, ending the call and chucking the phone onto the couch before invading the woman’s sphere once more.

“I take it we’re going to Italy?” She smirked in amusement, wrapping her arms around his neck and allowing him to pull her close.

Raymond hummed pleasantly, stealing a heated kiss from her. It had been several days since he had been able to do so. His hot tongue took her mouth without preamble, teasing and stroking her till he heard a desperate little mew and felt Rosalie press tighter to him. 

They had been sneaking moments like this since the week at Break Maiden. Every day, they attempted to find an increasingly elusive moment of privacy in which to scratch this particular itch. To add to their frustration, the past few safehouses had contained rather unhelpful layouts which had temporarily halted their late night wanderings.

The result was a pair of disgruntled criminals secretly engaging in heated necking sessions in every available corner of Rosalie’s network.

They had crossed a line, they knew, but frankly neither one had the slightest desire to return to their pre-blacksite state. 

Raymond pulled back with a smug smirk as the feminine features beamed coyly up at him.

“How would you like to come to the Palio?” He purred, already knowing what her answer would be.

“The Palio?” She gasped, “As in the bareback horse riding, bribery and lawlessness abound, Palio?”

Red chuckled, seeing her eyes alight with excitement. “The very same.”

Rosalie caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her excitement evident. Just as suddenly, her face fell. “Raymond I don’t have a location in Siena.”

His large hand stroked the small of her back fondly, her distraught tone amusing him. “Not to worry, my dear. We’re staying with Stratos, he has a home overlooking the Piazza del Campo.”

The woman looked at her counterpart with unbridled delight. She had always wanted to see the running of the Palio.

Red hungrily watched the emotions lighting her face before patting her backside playfully. “Go. Pack.” He instructed. “We’re going to be wheels up in 20.”

The command garnered Rosalie’s full attention, kindling the flame in her belly. The little woman didn’t need to be told twice, though she thought she might thoroughly enjoy his methods of persuasion. She leaned forward, kissing him once more. Her teeth nipped his bottom lip playfully, eliciting a grunt from the man before she pulled away.

Red felt his mood improve significantly as he watched her flounce across the apartment.

Dembe stood in the doorway, an impish grin lit his features.

“Oh shut up.” Raymond grumbled.

*************************************************************************************************

 _Red’s Jet - Somewhere over Mauritania - June 28th, 1999_  

“They already know you’re part of Raymond’s syndicate, they’ve already come for you once.”

They were relaxing on the jet, en route to Siena when Horace decided to breach the topic of Reddington with Rosalie.

Dembe was conveniently sleeping in the seat behind her and Red was talking at length with an associate on the other side of the plane.

“What are you on about?” The woman asked, not even glancing up from her book.

“Reddington’s newfound adversaries. Whoever they are, they already know of you, they’ve already taken a swipe at you.”

“The car accident, you mean?” Rosalie thought back to that day. Raymond had gone after the culprits with a terrible vengeance. 

His associates located the impounded vehicle, salvaging any evidence they could from the car’s interior. They were stonewalled, however, when the body of the driver went mysteriously missing from the city morgue. 

It was then that they realized whomever had attacked Rosalie’s detail was not from Castro’s syndicate. The perpetrator worked for the same person who ordered the hit on Patrick and attacked them at the warehouse in Munich.

The knowledge had infuriated Raymond, though Rosalie seemed to be supremely unconcerned about the matter.

“Well, I’m a criminal.” She reasoned, “This was bound to happen at some point.”

“Exactly,” agreed Horace, “You’re already connected to him. Whether you’re in a romantic relationship or not, you’re being pursued for your connection.”

“What are you trying to say, Horace?”

“My point is, if you’re already on the enemy’s radar, why bother denying the attraction?”

Rosalie stopped reading, her eyes snapping up, wide and fearful. 

“I don’t want to be a liability.”

Horace chuckled, “I hate to burst your bubble, but you’re already a liability.”

The woman’s expression was indignant.

“I know my opinion on the matter has been fluctuating.” Her bodyguard conceded, threading his fingers together and twiddling his thumbs.

“You mean you’ve been waffling spectacularly.” Rosalie corrected with a stern though amused look. Her friend’s advice on the matter of Raymond Reddington had been anything but consistent of late.

Horace snorted indelicately, nodding his agreement. “Yes I have. Though, to my defence, every time I turn around you two are doing something that changes my perception of your connection.”

“How so?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“The way you handled him in Munich. Your response to him, how you carried yourself at his side.” The man’s beetle black eyes narrowed at the wall, remembering those days quite clearly. “The night you were shot… I saw the way he held you, the look on his face. That wasn’t a man holding a business associate he’d known for less than nine months.” 

A deafening silence met his words. 

“Rosalie, you didn’t see him come off the plane at the blacksite.” He glanced meaningfully at her, “He was furious and worried, and he _needed_ to know you were alright. The man all but sprinted into the house and stood leaning against the bathroom door listening to you sing because it told him you were okay.”

Rosalie sat in stunned silence, having been unaware of all of this until now.

“You might not want to be a liability, you might not want to be someone that could be used against him, but Rosie, you’re already there. _He’s_ already there.”

The man added, “And don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t do the same for him. I saw the way you looked at him when you stepped out of the shower.”

“Wait, you were snooping?” Rosalie hissed incredulously.

Horace conveniently ignored the accusation. “You’re both at risk, it’s the nature of the world you live in. Why not be together and be happy?”

Her dark eyes turned toward Raymond, the phone still held securely to his ear. A smile tugged at his lips and he winked playfully at her, making her insides squirm.

The woman gave him a small smile and turned back to her guard. 

“Horace, what if something goes wrong?” Rosalie voiced her fear, thinking of all the terrible things that could happen in a romantic relationship between two fugitives.

“Then the two of you will meet it when it does.” He stated simply. “The way you’ve met every challenge so far. You are formidable together, _better_ together. I’ve known you for years now and I have never seen you so…”

“What?”

“Fulfilled.” He explained, “Partnering with Reddington, it’s changed you. For the first time, I think you’re content. You’re no longer chasing after your empire, you’re living in it. You’re sitting back and allowing this absolute titan you’ve created work on its own. It’s damn impressive, and it’s made all the better by working alongside Reddington’s syndicate. It’s like you and your network were made for it.” 

 _Made for him_. 

Horace allowed the implication to hang in the air. 

Rosalie sat in shock. She and Raymond had spent the better part of a year trying to deny everything that was going on between them. 

Now, to suddenly have the foundation of her argument pulled unceremoniously out from under her terrified the woman. She knew why she had been fighting her emotions, and it now seemed like a moot point. 

Raymond had repeatedly said he couldn’t put her in danger by being with her, but she was already in danger.

She was already in his enemy’s sights. What did their caution and attempted protection matter now? Would it not be better for them to allow their connection, to face the rising tide as a united front?

The smouldering grey eyes swivelled back to her business partner, her thoughts teeming with curiosity. 

_What would it be like, being Raymond Reddington’s lover?_

Red looked up, feeling the attention of the woman he was becoming so attuned to. He was caught behind a pair of liquid metal orbs that heatedly held his gaze. The look pulled his entire focus toward her, silencing the noisy jet instantaneously. 

Raymond wondered what he had done to garner such an amorous glance. He felt his body responding in kind, urging him to pitch the phone and take the little siren somewhere more private. His fingers tightened around the communications device as he watched her cross her legs. The movement left her upper thigh exposed beneath the table. The skirt she wore had wriggled up, leaving Raymond to ogle the expanse of creamy soft skin bisected by a dark garter strap.

The man’s pulse hammered, sending red hot blood pounding through his veins as his mind ran wild with fantasies involving the minx across from him.

Rosalie watched him intently, her every nerve ending thrummed in delight as her antics drew his ardour out into the open.

*************************************************************************************************

_Stratos Sarantos’s Villa - Piazza del Campo, Siena, Italy - June 29th, 1999_

They landed in Siena in the early hours of the following morning. The sedan provided by Stratos picked them up from the dark tarmac and carried them swiftly to the safehouse connecting to the Piazza del Campo, where Stratos was waiting to welcome them. Stratos was a tall man, reasonably broad and filled to the brim with boyish charm. His dark hair and olive skin spoke of his Mediterranean heritage, giving him a loping grace not unlike Horace.

Raymond hugged the man, slapping his back fondly before gesturing to his plus one. Rosalie beamed genially as she stepped out of the vehicle, reaching out and embracing the debonair Greek like an old friend. 

“ _Stratos,_ ” she cooed, her tone teasing, “I’ve heard so very many stories.” 

“Not a word of them true.” Stratos insisted, stooping to kiss the woman’s cheeks. “Unless they sing the praises of my dancing skills and my ability to woo beautiful women.” He waggled his eyebrows tauntingly at Reddington who chuckled and shook his head.

“Hmm…” Rosalie’s eyes carried good-naturedly down to the other man’s shoes, “I don’t recall any particular accolades regarding your footwork, but I believe there was a rather, shall we say, _charming_ incident with an Austrian honeypot named Anja. Tell me, did you ever get your pants back?”

Raymond and Dembe snorted with laughter at her quip, remembering the incident quite clearly. 

They had both claimed credit for the tall tale, taking great enjoyment in regaling it with minor embellishments to entertain and amuse the young woman.

Stratos roared in delight, “Oh, these two _have_ been whispering terrible little lies in your ear, my dear. Come, we shall correct these silly notions.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, walking her through the door and into the cool quiet of the apartment.

Red could hear Stratos’s thick voice echoing in the foyer.

“Has anyone told you the story of Raymond getting bent over a $60,000 settee by Laurence Dechambou?”

The woman’s eyes danced as she let out a tinkling laugh. 

The amused little minx had the nerve to glance impishly back at Raymond, assuring him he would be explaining _that_ little dalliance in vivid detail later.

The home was a bright, expansive apartment built in an old Tuscan fashion with a combination of stone and white-washed brick. The centuries-old beams took pride of place, vaulting the home’s tall ceiling upward at a sharp angle. The enormous, arching windows overlooking the Piazza occupied most of the Northern wall and extended into the bedrooms as well.

Rosalie immediately fell in love with the place.

As she sat in the enormous window sill, watching the sun rise a luminous pink, the woman thought about her discussion with Horace. It had changed things for Rosalie, the woman realized with a jolt.

She was out of reasons to stay away from Raymond.

The thought was more than a little daunting. Truthfully, she didn’t know how to proceed. Rosalie wasn’t certain where the man stood, if he would agree with her change of opinion on the matter. Raymond had always intimated there were dangers lurking around him which he didn’t want her exposed to, but Rosalie agreed with Horace, there was little to do about that now.

Would he see things in the same light? If so, what would that mean for them?

The woman’s mind hurtled along, trying to find a path forward, completely unaware of the conversation occurring down the hall.

Dembe knocked on Raymond’s door, stepping through when the older man opened it.

“There is something I believe you should know.”

Red quirked an eyebrow at the young bodyguard, gesturing for him to sit. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dembe assured, “Simply something I overheard.”

Raymond’s clever eyes bored into Dembe’s soulful ones, seeming to look right through him. “I knew you weren’t sleeping on the plane.”

“I dozed for a while, but you know I don’t sleep well in the air.” Replied Dembe. “Regardless, I woke up to a most interesting conversation between Rosalie and Horace.”

The fugitive straightened slightly at the mention of the woman. “And?” He asked.

“What do you feel in regards to her?”

“I, well…” Red hesitated, “Does it matter what I feel for her?”

“Yes.” Stated Dembe pointedly. “It matters a great deal.”

“Dembe, what did you find out?” The man redirected, not wanting to utter the truth aloud.

The young bodyguard waited patiently, not one to be misled by the Raymond’s usual tactics.

“I am attracted to her, certainly,” admitted Red, “I care for her, deeply, more than I probably should.”

“Horace knows.” the younger man disclosed, “He has for some time now. He is of the opinion Rosalie is already in danger by name and by reputation. Our enemies know of her and know she has a place in your syndicate.”

This wasn’t news to Raymond, the information had been bothering him ever since he learned who had attempted to take out Rosalie and her guards. “And?”

“Horace asked Rosalie why she was not pursuing you. The answer was illuminating.”

“Are you going to illuminate me on her reasons?” Asked Red, dreading the answer.

“No.” Said Dembe, stalwartly, “You are going to ask her yourself.”

“Why on earth would I do that?” Raymond blurted, thinking it was the last thing he planned on doing.

“Because you need to hear it from her. You of all people need to hear those words from her. Her reason for denying your connection will mean much more, and I believe it just might change your opinion on the matter.” Dembe smiled and stood, patting Raymond on the shoulder before striding quietly from the room.

Raymond stood, staring with brows furrowed in confusion as his guard left him with that enigmatic statement. 

*************************************************************************************************

Their group ventured out a few hours later for the beginning of the Palio festivities. The Palio itself wouldn’t be run for another three days, but the horses would be chosen and assigned to their respective contrade that morning.

They lined up in their seats after breakfast to watch the “tratta”, the trials which would determine which horses were allowed to run.

Rosalie watched in fascination as heat after heat of trial runs were made with horses of every color taking to the track. She listened intently as Stratos explained the finer nuances of the race with periodic input from Dembe and Raymond. The Palio was a terribly interesting concept, the corruption and boisterous antics that lingered behind the event made the whole affair a point of intrigue for their little band of criminals.

As the captains of the contrada arrived to select which ten horses would race, a friend of Stratos came lumbering exuberantly toward them. The boyish, portly man boomed at him in greeting. 

“Stratos! You came, my friend!” 

Stratos stood and embraced the bellowing Sienese man, carrying on in animated Italian.

The men turned toward the rest of the group, laughing and shouting raucously. “Everyone, this is my dear friend Jacopo Marangoni! Jacopo, this is Raymond Reddington, his business partner Rosalie Øllegaard, Red’s associate Dembe Zuma, and Rosalie’s associate, Horace Asim Jabare.”

Jacopo made his rounds through the group, greeting them fondly and making sure to kiss the young woman’s cheeks twice. 

Rosalie looked like a little bohemian in her long, flowing sundress and Panama hat with its sharp black band. The dress had a deep split in one side, allowing Red an unrivaled view of her legs as she stood chatting in lilting Italian with Jacopo.

The man roared his delight, the rotund figure wobbling merrily as he listened to the little slip of a woman.

As it turned out, Stratos’s apartment was part of La Contrada Dell’Onda, of which Jacopo was the captain. It was Jacopo’s role to see to the victory of his contrada or the failure of their rival, whichever he could manage.

“Oh, I love your contrada.” Rosalie smiled, patting his arm, “ _The color of the sky and the strength of the sea_.” She quoted affectionately.

The wily old Sienese took to the woman like a honeybee to a wildflower.

“But of course, La Contrada Capitana Dell’Onda attracts the beautiful women, they wear our colours and stand like blossoming beauties in the stands, cheering our horse to victory!” Jacopo’s large, calloused hand reached out to pinch Rosalie’s cheek fondly.

Stratos shook his head at the man’s antics. “Jacopo, I thought Onda wasn’t running in this race?”

“We are not.” Agreed Jacopo, leaning into the center of the group. “We’re not here to race, we’re here to fuck with our enemies.” 

The members of Jacopo’s contrada cheered loudly, the rest of the group sniggered at his conviction and vulgarity.

Jacopo turned back to Rosalie, taking her hand and sitting in the front row. “Come my little dolcezza, I will tell you all there is to know about _Il Palio_.”

The afternoon passed in an enjoyable fashion.

Jacopo and his lieutenants from Onda were a loud but friendly crowd. There were many other people flitting in and out of their group, several business acquaintances in particular came to say hello and chat with Raymond as the day went on.

The man sat looking suave and carefree a little ways down the row from Rosalie. She glanced at him periodically, his relaxed yet powerful posture proving to be a distraction.

There weren’t as many people in the stands, so he sat with one leg crossed over the other, leaning back on one elbow with his fingers thread together comfortably. The lightweight suit he wore was a pale beige, he had forgone the jacket and tie, leaving the first few buttons of his crisp white shirt popped. His sleeves were rolled up, giving him somewhat of a reprieve from the summer’s heat. The brim of his fedora was pulled low, providing extra shade as he watched the contrade draw lots for their horses. 

Rosalie had difficulty prying her eyes from his masculine form. The strong arms, with their dusting of light blonde hair had her mind wandering, recalling what it felt like to have them wrapped around her. She swore if she concentrated she could recall the feel of Red’s heavy watch brushing against the small of her back. She wasn’t sure if it was the heat or perhaps her libido, but Rosalie found the man looked more devilishly charming than usual.

As the day’s festivities ended and the group headed for the cool sanctuary of the villa, Rosalie watched in fascination as the swarms of people parted when Red walked past. The man positively swaggered, never halting his smooth stride as they made their way through the streets. He turned back to her, winking fondly as Stratos, Horace, and Dembe carried on about the trials. Raymond moved to the side, making space between himself and Stratos so Rosalie could walk beside him. 

Red kept his hand on the small of her back the entire way, guiding her gently through the home’s large door upon their arrival.

They all separated for a small reprieve before dinner. The heat of the day had been exhausting.

Rosalie kicked off her sandals and lay sprawled on the bed, her ankles crossed and her feet resting atop the headboard. She decided to call Luli and discuss the work issues which had been plaguing her. 

They had been talking for a while when Rosalie heard footsteps outside her room. She turned her head to see Raymond sliding quietly inside, closing the door behind him. The action made Rosalie smile softly, and the man met her eyes with a similarly pleased look.

He strode casually to the other side of the bed, toeing off his shoes before climbing in next to her.

“I’ll deal with Tiberius, Lu, I need you to look for leaks in the canoe…”

Red stroked a hand down her leg, drawing her undivided attention.

“...Hmm? Oh. Yeah, sorry…” Rosalie had missed what she was saying. “...No, that’s fine.”

She managed to cast a very chastising glance Raymond’s way, which only seemed to spur him on.

A devilish smirk passed his lips before he leaned down to insolently place a kiss to her left knee.

A shiver traversed Rosalie’s warm skin as she attempted to end her conversation.

“Yes...Yes, Lu. I know.” The woman on the other end wasn’t taking the hint.

Red trailed a burning path along the back of her thighs, ending at the ticklish spot that marked the transition from her legs to her pert little backside. 

The sensation had Rosalie squirming and stammering. “L-Lu I’ve got to go.” She pleaded her case, eyes narrowing as a deep chuckle vibrated against her skin.

“I’m not going to mess about with Tiberius, Luli, If he doesn’t want to play ball, I’ll just buy the house out from under him.” She growled irritably into the phone, “I need to go. We’ll talk later.”

Red was beside himself with mirth, having found a pastime which could so easily unravel his counterpart.

The heated grey orbs told him she was not pleased with his discovery, even as she arched into his touch.

She tossed the phone away from her, leveling him a stern gaze. “Unless you’re prepared to take me here and now, I suggest you take those wandering hands and trek elsewhere.” 

“Or what?” he purred challengingly.

“I don’t think you want to play this game with me, Raymond.” Rosalie warned, giving him an out. She was fresh out of reasons to behave herself around him, and having him in her bed stroking her like that was not helping.

“Oh I think I do.” He growled darkly. 

Rosalie the criminal was an arousing little minx that made Red conveniently forget any and all honorable intent he may have started with.

She gave him fair warning, “I can be a terrible, merciless tease when prevailed upon. Are you certain you want to issue such a challenge with me?”

Raymond thought for a moment, his head resting on one of her shins, his left hand still carelessly caressing her thigh. “Yes.” He decided, goosing the back of her knee. She pulled the appendage back with a squeak, rolling to sit upright.

“I accept your challenge.” said Raymond placidly, standing up and adjusting his waistcoat. 

“I suggest you pack your lunch, then, Raymond. It’s going to be a long week.” 

“You seem convinced you’re going to come out on top.” noted Red, “Excellent. I enjoy a challenge.”

“Someone’s confident.” She smirked, eyes narrowed in amusement.

“You’ll find I’m always confident.” He intoned leaning to kiss her cheek.

Rosalie turned, her lips brushing against his ear. 

“I’m confident I’m going to have you climbing the walls.” She purred, placing a cheeky little kiss to his jaw.

****************************************************************************************************

The group met up with Jacopo and his lieutenants shortly thereafter for dinner. They went to a bustling local’s spot in Onda, where several spectacularly large tables had been setup right in the middle of the street.

Excellent food and wine abounded, lubricating the night for a boisterous and enjoyable party.

Italians, particularly those in the area surrounding Siena, tended to gravitate towards people with an ambiguous moral compass. Raymond and Rosalie, with their naturally devious natures, fit right in. The pair were quickly placing under the table bets and doling out bribes for the sake of their chosen contrada. Naturally, they had chosen different contrade to spice up the stakes. 

Their innocent little competition quickly turned underhanded, as Raymond’s contrada, Oca, secured a promising jockey who had already won the Palio multiple times.

Rosalie had bet on the “Nonna” to be cheeky. The Nonna was a nickname given to the contrada which hadn’t won the Palio in several years. Civetta, the current Nonna, hadn’t won since 1985. 

Jacopo was betting, trading, and undermining like a pickpocketing bandit. Rosalie, ever the helpful companion, was right in the thick of it with him. She facilitated a perfect mixture of feminine wiles and formidable business sense to assist Jacopo in his endeavors.

Raymond watched her intently, noting other men were doing so as well.

The dress she chose for the night was light and airy, flowing over her curves like a winding river. The pale sage green colour actually paired well with Raymond’s eyes, which were glued to each dip and sway of her hips. Her delicate shoulders were uncovered, peaking over the small sleeves which wrapped about her arms. Something about the glimpse of skin made Red absolutely parched.

Stratos chortled, seeing the man’s attentions wholly diverted to the spritely figure across the table. He leaned over to Raymond as Rosalie and Jacopo sat conspiring for Onda. “I had no idea she was such a wild card, Raymond, no wonder you’ve been keeping her to yourself.”

“I think she aspires to be a siren.” Red intoned in a velvety voice, a mischievous glint lurking behind his eyes.

“I prefer the term freebooter,” retorted Rosalie, catching his comment with a sly smirk. “And there’s no aspiring, darling, I’m already there.”

Raymond grinned, all too eager to take up a round of witty banter with the confident little deviant. “Is that so, my dear?”

“If you recall, you’ve called me a minx several times this week alone.” The sincerity in her voice did nothing to hide the blatant implications of such a statement. 

Her eyes met his challengingly as she counted out several euros for a bribe against the Nicchio contrada.

“And I stand by that statement. You could steal a sailor from the sea.” Red crooned, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek. 

The expression always gave him an air of roguishness that made Rosalie squirm in delight.

Raymond caught the subtle shift of her thighs, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. 

**************************************************************************************************** 

When the group finally returned to the apartment, they were all quite drunk, and their pockets were considerably lighter for their cavorting and racketeering.

In the dark of the home’s halls, Raymond and Rosalie took their sweet time heading toward their rooms. By the time they reached their hallway, the others were already safely out of the way.

Red pulled the tipsy little creature to him, kissing her sensually. She matched his ardour, stroking his tongue languidly with hers. She could taste the robust wine they had been drinking, making her feel doubly dizzy. 

“I want you in my bed.” She purred boldly, “But we can’t.”

Raymond groaned into her mouth, backing her into the nearest wall. “Why not?” he questioned, trailing his mouth down her slender neck.

“Because it is hotter ‘n a blister bug in a pepper patch.” She giggled, the tiniest hint of an accent sneaking into her voice. 

“And I,” She prodded a finger into Red’s chest. “Have been looking forward to sprawling naked on _that_ bed.”

Raymond’s eyebrows hit his hairline as she jutted a thumb down the hall.

“All. Day. Long.”

She accentuated the statement with little pokes to his person, working her way up to the top of his shirt, where the first few buttons were undone. A quiet hum could be heard as she focused on the small glimpse of his skin, the chest hair  there reminding her of the virile, confident man she had been eyeing earlier.

When her eyes flitted coyly up to Raymond’s face she found the same man, but his visage had darkened to a heated, predatory nature. She was forcefully reminded of the power he held, the towering intellect that had drawn her to him in the first place, the way he positively swaggered into a room. 

Rosalie’s knees shook, every inch of Raymond Reddington now felt like new and uncharted territory.

Her eyes dropped to the opening of his shirt, placing a sweet, gentle kiss to the warm skin. The scent that was uniquely his flooded her senses, pulling a needy whine from her throat.

Raymond stood stock still, bracing himself against the wall behind her with one hand. He had been too busy chuckling at her endearing antics and the quaint phrases which had snuck into her speech to notice the palpable change in atmosphere. The soft kiss she placed to his bare chest brought him out of his haze and made him growl in approval. She hadn’t yet kissed him there, and it now felt painfully, wonderfully intimate.

Raymond thumbed her chin, guiding the sweet little face to look up at him. “You’re cruel, woman.” 

“You started it.” She grinned, reaching up to give his nose a boop.

The woman turned on her heel, giggling aloud as she wriggled from his grasp.

Red watched her go, forcing himself not to follow her tipsy footsteps. He was confident he couldn’t keep his hands to himself if he were to join her. 

This was going to be a long week, and Raymond couldn’t help but look forward to every agonizing second.

****************************************************************************************************

_Stratos’s Apartment - Piazza del Campo, Siena, Italy - July 2nd, 1999_

The morning of the Palio saw two very disgruntled criminals tossing and turning in bed.

Reddington was sorely regretting the challenge he had issued Rosalie. 

She hadn’t been downplaying her abilities as a merciless tease. 

His prowess was on par with hers, however, leaving them both in a rather frazzled state.

Cold showers abounded as their antics reached a near-boiling point. 

Everything the woman did and everything she wore seemed to set the man on fire. 

Red had kissed her right up to her door each night, enthralled with their flagrant disregard for their previous boundaries. He had also growled his dissatisfaction each time the little hellion kissed him off, feigning maiden modesty. 

She giggled openly as she disappeared into her room, all too eager to leave him hot and bothered at her door.

The woman in question was not immune, however, and in the very early hours of the morning, she huffed her frustration. A delightful dream had been waylaid by the sound of church bells in the distance. It was the crack of dawn and her body felt like it was burning from the inside out.

Deciding nothing could be harmed by it, she got up and quietly padded to the master bath across the hall.

Raymond had been unable to sleep as well. He was enjoying an ice cold glass of juice when he heard the sound of the shower running upstairs and smiled softly to himself. 

As he walked back to his room, a soft, feminine moan reached his ears. Red halted like a stone bust in the hall, ears pricked for any further sound. Another groan drifted down to where he stood. Without hesitation, the man strode in the direction of the master bath.

The sound of the shower grew louder as he reached the door, another groan echoing from the confines of the room. The man was just starting to feel concerned that Rosalie was somehow hurt when a soft mew followed by a girlish giggle escaped from behind the closed door.

Heat crept up Red’s neck at the thought of what he had inadvertently walked into. He knew he shouldn’t be listening, but he found his feet were glued to the floor.

The sounds he could hear from his place outside the door left him painfully aware of what the beautiful young woman was up to in there.

Her soft whimpering gasps cut right through him. 

If this was one of her teasing antics, he would gladly concede defeat if it meant finding out precisely what delectable things she was doing to coax those sounds from her own mouth. 

Red placed his hand gently against the door, allowing his head to hit the frame with a soft _thud_.

The moans continued to creep through the space between door and frame. Raymond closed his eyes, listening hungrily to each one.

He could tell she was close, her panting had sped up, each whimper became more desperate as she chased her climax.

Red’s erection strained painfully against the zipper of his trousers. He palmed himself just enough to relieve some of the ache.

She was becoming more erratic now, he could hear how frantic she was as she brought herself ever closer to the edge.

Red had to stifle a groan as he heard her pleading for release in a trembling voice. It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard, and it went straight to his throbbing cock.

He could picture her then, in the throes of passion, fisting the sheets of his bed as he drove her wild.

He could practically hear her call his name, until he realized with a jolt that his name was coming from the bathroom.

“Raymond...oh god, Raymond!”

He panicked for a moment, thinking she must have noticed his presence. When nothing happened and the sinful noises continued from the room, Red realized with a barely contained moan that Rosalie was thinking of _him_.

The thought combined with the utterly wanton cry signalling her release and Red felt his knees buckling as he held fast to the frame. The noises quietened to soft gasps as Rosalie recovered from her high. She was trembling, shaking from her orgasm, and the man could hear it. The noises made his body tense and shudder, wanting to kick the door down and ravage the woman within.

A short while later, Rosalie continued her shower where she left off, her breathing restored to normal.

Red took a steadying breath and walked quietly back down the hall. He needed a drink to calm the blood that was pounding through his veins at an alarming rate. The bar cart in the lounge held a new bottle of his favourite scotch. He poured a couple fingers and retreated to the woman’s room, trying to focus on anything but her naked and getting off in the shower. He needed to compose himself before she arrived.

He was losing the upper hand, in their little game, and he was determined to regain his footing.

When Rosalie finished her shower, she padded to her room only to find Raymond relaxing on her bed, casually staring her down.

“My apologies for startling you, my dear,” he purred, “I would have announced myself but I know how much you love your long showers. So I poured myself a drink and let you _finish_.”

He caressed the last word with an indecent level of smugness.

Rosalie lowered her eyes to her attire as the realization hit her. He knew full well what she had gotten up to in the shower and was raring to tease her about it.

Rather than making her feel abashed, his obvious interest in her antics only served to confirm she was having a sizable effect on him.

He grinned at her pointed silence. “The Palio doesn’t start for several hours. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll indulge in a nice hot rinse as well.”

The man stood up and swaggered down the hall with entirely too much bravado.

The blood still pounded in his ears as he made his way to the master bath. Red needed release or he was certain he would snap.

Opening the doors to the lavish suite, he stepped into the still steamy confines, an animalistic growl erupting from his throat.

The scent of Rosalie’s bath products hung lightly in the air, mingling with the unmistakable and achingly delicious scent of aroused woman.

Raymond’s nostrils flared, taking in the titillating blend of scents.

A feminine giggle could be heard from the hallway. Red turned to see Rosalie’s mischievous little face peeking around the door.

She knew damn well what had caused such a specific growl to echo from the steamy space.

“Enjoy your rinse, Reddington.” she purred, “Here’s an extra towel, should you need it.”

Red’s eyes dilated as she tossed the towel she had been wearing onto one of the sink basins. The door conveniently covered her nakedness and she laughed merrily, winking cheekily before striding down the hall without a care in the world.

Raymond stood knock-kneed in the steamy room, his shaft aching with need.

The cruel little tease wasn’t just winning their game, she was systematically destroying the dying vestiges of the man’s already feeble resolve.

He was going to break, that much he knew, it was just a question of how long he could withstand the onslaught. Part of him revelled in the challenge, seeing how long he could hold himself back from the wicked siren who was determined to be his. 

Red turned the shower on before carelessly removing the rest of his clothing. The bathroom was magnificent, the beautiful marble walls and flooring combined with ornate brass fixtures to create a warm and inviting look. The glass shower was completely fogged over with steam as Red stepped inside, letting out a low groan of satisfaction as the hot water pelted his skin.

His mind went hurtling back to the shower’s earlier occupant. Red could hardly wrap his head around the fact that he had discovered her masturbating. The idea of the young, vital woman running her hands over herself and moaning _his_ name turned him on to no end. His cock was painfully hard, hanging heavy and twitching in front of him. Raymond decided to let his mind wander back to Rosalie, conjuring up images of what she could have been doing to elicit those sounds. He could see her clearly in the shower with him as he took himself in hand, hissing at the first stroke.

He saw her sitting on the bench, her back resting against the cool tiled wall. Her eyes were closed, her hands kneading her breasts. He could make out a pert pink nipple peeking between two of her fingers.

A groan rumbled from his chest as he slowly stroked his member, adjusting the grip on each down stroke.

He watched the Rosalie in his mind run a trembling hand down her abdomen to the soft curls between her legs. Her lips parted in a soft gasp as she teased herself, barely dipping a finger into her sex before dragging it out to circle her clit. She whimpered at the sensation, drawing tight circles around the bundle of nerves until her legs were trembling.

Red’s breath was coming in harsh gasps as Rosalie opened her eyes and locked them with his.

Her pupils were wide with lust as they had been that day at Break Maiden. Nibbling her bottom lip, she beckoned him toward her with a glistening finger.

Red imagined stalking toward her in the steam and taking that digit into his mouth, swirling his tongue wickedly over it.

The motion made her hum with arousal and he knew what he craved next.

If the scent in the bathroom was anything to go by, the prize between the woman’s thighs was going to taste incredible. 

The scent of the room and the fantasies running through Raymond’s mind had him thrusting hungrily into his grip, thumbing his sensitive head over and over.

“Fuck me.” He growled, feeling the beginnings of a powerful orgasm tingling at the base of his spine.

Red saw himself kneeling in front of the bench, shifting Rosalie’s hips to the edge and putting his mouth to her sensitive flesh.

The sound that issued from that sweet little mouth as his tongue swirled deftly over her clit had him rapidly approaching the edge. His mind conjured up sinful images of the breath-taking blonde rutting her hips up into his hot mouth. She pleaded for release, begged him to pull her into the abyss of ecstasy.

The echo of her desperate pleas took him hurtling into his orgasm, his hips jerking as he came with a primal growl. “God, Rosalie” he moaned and shuddered as his hand pumped furiously up and down the pulsating shaft.

The last drops of his release dripped down his head and along his fist. He slowed his strokes, swirling deftly over the head, bringing himself back to earth slowly. The exhausted gasps slowed as Red caught his breath, relaxing into the wall and allowing the shower’s spray to cleanse him.

************************************************************************************************* 

Later that morning, the group was gathering to make their way to the Palio. Rosalie had just walked into the kitchen wearing what could very well be her new favourite outfit. She had chosen it specifically to support Jacopo’s contrada, even though they weren’t running. She had also chosen it because of the insufferable heat. 

It was a pale blue seafoam romper, something the woman hadn’t worn in years. The cut was cute and modest, yet left her toned legs on full display. She told herself her choice of attire had nothing to do with the fact that Raymond seemed completely enamoured with that particular part of her anatomy.

She paired the outfit with a pair of small beige boots and red rimmed sunglasses. 

“Reddington is going to ask where your gun is.” Reminded Horace, looking at the woman in the aquamarine romper, baffled as to where she planned on hiding the damn thing. His comment was met with silence and a sly, carefree smile.

Reddington entered the kitchen in another pale suit, the sleeves preemptively rolled up and the top buttons opened. 

He stopped in his tracks at the sight of the young innkeeper. 

Dembe and Horace grinned knowingly at each other. 

“Where did she find that ensemble?” Asked Dembe softly.

“She went shopping with Jacopo’s daughters yesterday afternoon.” Intoned Horace, “I think she’s determined to kill him or bed him, whichever comes first.”

The bodyguards snorted with laughter. They had suspected there was a battle of wills occurring between Raymond and Rosalie, and the looks the man was giving her all but confirmed it.

Rosalie dimpled coyly at him. She thread her fingers in front of her in what, to the untrained eye, seemed like an innocent expression.

The formidable fugitive strode casually into the room, determinedly gaining the upper hand. He eyed her body openly, from her head of golden curls right down to the toes of her small boots. 

It was impossible for Rosalie not to be affected by his gaze.

Her whole body flushed a pleasant pink as he stood nose to nose with her.

“You need a hat, my dear.” He advised, plucking the straw fedora from his own pate and popping it on her curls with a flourish.

The item was much like her panama, a very light straw color with a striking black band.

Rosalie looked up at him from beneath the the brim. “What about you?” She asked, thinking he would be terribly uncomfortable without something covering his head.

Red’s mouth twitched minutely as he reached behind her, plucking an almost identical hat from the rack beside the door. He placed it on his head, running his fingertips from the back of the brim to the front, showcasing the chocolate brown band that distinguished the fedora from the one on Rosalie.

Their merry little band filed out of the comfortable apartment and into the bustling streets. Stratos and Jacopo lead the way to their seats along the track.

Raymond grasped Rosalie’s hand, guiding her through the thronging crowds with Horace and Dembe flanking them on either side.

“My God, it’s hotter than Satan’s house cat.” Grumbled Rosalie, feeling the heat pour over like a stifling haze as they took to the stands.

“How you aren’t burning up in all that is beyond me.” She commented idly to Raymond, shimmying down the line.

Red watched the full hips swish back and forth. “Sweetheart, you have no idea.” He grumbled under his breath. 

Dembe was the only one to catch his comment.

A low, smooth laugh sounded from behind Raymond, who turned to look at his bodyguard. The young man chortled merrily at his sullen expression.

“You’re enjoying this too much.” Reddington chastised, the corner of his mouth just barely twitching in amusement.

“She warned you.” goaded Dembe, eager to escalate the matter.

Raymond narrowed his eyes at the reminder, choosing not to address the shrewd observation in favor of taking his seat beside Rosalie.

He glanced surreptitiously over at the lithe form, “Where is your firearm?” Red chided. He had yet to stop admiring her attire, however he doubted she could have even fit her switchblades in it.

“I’m following the rules.” She groused, “Mind you, it wasn’t easy. I had to get damn clever with the sewing.”

Red looked over her attire again, eyes trailing down the plain of her back, over the curve of her derrière and down those damnable legs. 

“I don’t believe you. Where on earth could you hide it?”

An indelicate snigger issued from beside him.

“Ah, the feminine mystique strikes again.” intoned Dembe, sharing a mischievous grin with the young innkeeper.

Rosalie beamed at her comrade, leaning into his ear and sharing her secrets.

The man’s eyebrows rose, apparently impressed with her textile-based ingenuity. He offered a silent golf clap in praise of her efforts, smirking knowingly at a disgruntled Raymond Reddington.

Red’s relentless curiosity was piqued, so he tapped her shoulder with a thick digit.

Rosalie turned, peering docilely up at him.

Intent on locating the elusive weapon, Red’s large, warm hands gripped her hips. The strong fingers kneaded the pliant flesh, searching for any indication of her hiding spot.

Dembe chuckled, instinctively turning his large frame to help shield them from sight. Stratos was too busy talking animatedly with Jacopo, his broad shoulders blocking their other side. Raymond backed the woman against the railing, blocking the last avenue of visibility to their antics.

Rosalie watched him through hooded eyes as the fire in her belly stirred to vivid life. Her body delighted in his intense scrutiny, wanting to be bared to his gaze.

Those powerful hands painted sinful pictures in her mind’s eye as they followed the outward curve of her hips up into the narrow hollow of her waist.

Raymond couldn’t stifle a deep growl of longing as his hands outlined the tantalizing hourglass. His thumbs grazed over the soft material covering the taut surface of her abdomen, finally catching on a tiny bump running across the narrow slip of her waist. The bump continued in a ring around her body, which Red traced until his fingertips grazed a hard object behind her back.

Eyes boring into hers, Raymond grasped the soft shoulders, guiding them so she was standing with her back to him.

A sweet ache thrummed between Rosalie’s legs as she practically felt his heated gaze trailing down her body.

Red leaned forward, grasping the railing on either side of the curvaceous frame, boxing her in with his masculine bulk.

Rosalie found she quite liked the position. She felt safe, protected from all the bellowing and noise. It was like a bubble had surrounded them in the crowd, creating their own little world. Raymond’s scent and proximity made her quiver, truth be told, and the reaction did not go unnoticed by Reddington. He leaned in, stealthily placing his warm lips to her sun-kissed nape.

The action pulled a tremulous sigh from Rosalie before she could stifle it.

A devilish grin tugged at Raymond’s mouth.

He was enjoying the hell out of this.

The Concierge of Crime knew precisely where her firearm was hidden, yet he continued his slow, deliberate perusal of her trembling form anyway.

Red lifted a hand to brush the honeyed curls away from the woman’s neck, trailing his deft fingertips over the satiny expanse, fighting a definite urge to lick every goosebump he left in his wake.

His searching and groping carried down her shoulders, and around the curves of her waist and hips, deliberately missing the item by millimetres. Finally, his hands trekked slowly down the centre of her spine, bumping into a hard object halfway down her frame.

“I seem to have found evidence of contraband, darling.” His tone was victorious as his lips grazed the shell of her ear.

Rosalie squeaked, leaning into the pleasant tickle of his warm breath against her sensitive skin.  

“My only question is…”

The rumbling voice made her thighs squeeze together in a desperate attempt to relieve the need he was creating.

“...How do you plan to access such an elusive item?”

A lone digit extended to stroke the supple flesh of her thigh, skirting along the hem of her clothing, teasing the burning skin hidden beneath the soft fabric.

“This little ensemble is so perfectly fitted,” he growled, pressing his imposing frame against hers.

“I want to know, from where, exactly, you might be pulling all that fire power?” His request was punctuated by a dark chuckle as he nipped her earlobe.

Rosalie was going to spontaneously combust, she just knew it.

Her lips were parted, arousal coursing through her every nerve ending. As though under a spell, her traitorous hand grasped his, lifting it from the railing. She looked back at Raymond, placing a gentle kiss to his palm as she did so.

Red’s breath hitched, watching the rosy lips meet his skin.

Rosalie’s heart was hammering as she mentally scrambled to get her bearings. She turned back to the railing, her slender fingers threading through his.

Raymond grunted as she placed his hand on her lower abdomen, just a hair’s breadth above her pelvis.

“Here?” he questioned, disbelief colouring his voice.

“No.” She giggled, keeping her hand over his, guiding it around to her hip.

The man behind her hummed softly as she dragged his hand along the soft fabric.

“Here?” he rasped, his fingers curling instinctively into the delectable curve, the image of himself pulling her frame back to meet his thrusts flooding his mind.

“ _No_.” She grinned, sensing where his mind had wandered. She adjusted her arm, bending it behind her back the way one would when getting handcuffed.

“Rosalie.” Raymond whispered her name like a plea. His well-laid plans were going to hell entirely too quickly for his liking.

The little deviant wiggled her fingers at him, calling to the hand she had abandoned.

With no small amount of trepidation, the man placed his fingertips to her palm.

The little grip closed around two of the thick digits, guiding them to the bottom of one of the romper’s pleats, just above the swell of her backside.

Rosalie turned her head to the side, silently beckoning him closer. She wanted him near, wanted to bask in the exact moment when he located his target.

Red leaned over her shoulder, shielding her actions and brushing his lips against hers. A delighted hum poured from her mouth as he did so. 

Red felt her reaffirm her hold on his fingers, shifting them ever so slowly up the inside crease of the pleat.

As they reached the dip of her waist, Red felt something.

A tiny, miniscule zipper was tucked within the pleat, completely invisible to the naked eye.

Raymond’s fingers closed on the little tab, the green eyes locking on the little face gazing up at him.

Rosalie waited in agonized anticipation as he gently tugged.

It was torture, feeling each one of the zipper’s teeth give way.

His lips parted, brushing teasingly against hers as her sweet breath ghosted across his lips.

When the hidden space opened, Red pulled away, cocking his head and grinning slyly at the glinting handle of the Browning hi-power.

What he found just below the firearm, however, shook the man to his very foundations.

Rosalie watched him avidly as recognition dawned on his handsome features.

There, just beneath the gun’s glinting barrel, he spotted the tiniest scrap of snow-white panties he had ever seen.

Raymond’s forehead thudded against her shoulder with a piteous moan.

Rosalie giggled in her mischievous way, not helping the situation in the slightest.

Raymond knew now, she had expected him to go looking for the firearm, had known if she had made the slightest mystery of it, he wouldn’t cease until he located it. She had planned for the eventuality, and delighted in teasing him with a devilish peak at the innocent bit of lingerie cradling her feminine assets.

“ _Have mercy, woman_.” He pleaded in his sinfully deep baritone, his index finger reaching within to stroke beneath the minuscule strip of lace. 

The fantasies hurtling through his mind in that moment would have dropped a lesser man to his knees.

“You were the one insisting on frisking me.” She reminded, unaware she was arching up into his touch.

“You damnable little minx.” He admonished in a tone of utmost reverence. “How on earth am I supposed to concentrate on anything with you right here, looking like every one of my schoolboy fantasies?”

“I warned you Raymond.” She moaned softly, feeling the evidence of his arousal pressing against the small of her back. 

She placed her lips against his ear, teasing him further. “We can revisit your school boy fantasies later, I’m almost certain there’s a pleated skirt in my overnight bag.”

Raymond groaned, reaching a hand to cup her cheek, guiding the sweet mouth to his.

Rosalie could vaguely hear wolf whistles echoing from across the track, but she was too preoccupied with Red’s tongue to be bothered.

She was about to suggest they take their little exploration back to the apartment when the sound of cannon fire echoed along the piazza. 

 _Il Palio_ was about to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: 
> 
> “Do you trust me?” Raymond asked, suspense burning him from the inside out.
> 
> “Of course.” She said automatically, the instantaneous response taking even herself by surprise.
> 
> “Do you believe I can and would do anything I felt necessary to keep you safe?”
> 
> Her eyes held his confidently. “I do.”
> 
> “Then why aren’t we together?”


	14. Turnabout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've been thinking of changing the summary... What do you guys think? Yea or Nay?
> 
> Also, thank you to all of you who comment, drop kudos, or just read in the background, you are awesome!

A rumble of dissension passed between Raymond and Rosalie at the sound of the cannon. Neither seemed pleased at the disruption, their shared arousal thrumming palpably in the air between them. 

A passel of young Sienese men could be heard cat-calling the pair from across the track. One stern glance from the man in the hat had them quieter than church mice. 

Rosalie watched the exchange with unbridled amusement, Raymond’s dark countenance was rather enticing in her opinion. 

She leaned forward, placing her lips to a point just beneath his jaw. 

Red turned his head slightly, opening himself to the affection.

Rosalie grinned and kissed the place again, nuzzling the stubble there playfully. It seemed she had found a bit of a soft spot, as Raymond’s eyelids fluttered and he unconsciously pressed closer to the feminine silhouette in front of him.

Rosalie hummed contentedly, pleased at being surrounded by his larger frame.

“We’ll continue this later, I wouldn’t want you to miss the race.” Raymond murmured quietly, placing his lips to her temple once more before striking up a conversation with Dembe.

Their friend was grinning slyly at them both, noticing how Raymond remained protectively close to Rosalie as the crowd became more and more raucous.

An idea struck Red, and he leaned into Dembe’s ear while passing his friend a large wad of cash.

Dembe smiled suspiciously at the other man before taking the money and hurriedly making his way along the row.

“Where’s he going?” asked Rosalie, watching his broad frame parting the sea of onlookers.

Red smirked at nothing in particular. “Never you mind. He’s making a last minute bribe for me. He’ll be back long before the race starts.”

True to his word, Dembe returned moments later with a broad grin. The bribe had obviously been successful.

Rosalie eyed the pair suspiciously, who met her with identical looks of utmost innocence.

The pageantry and fanfare soon began, inundating the piazza in a riot of song and color. There were several performers presenting the colors of the various contrade, the ones racing, those not chosen, and those that were no longer in existence. 

Rosalie had always been a sucker for tradition. There was something about ritual and the meaning behind such things within a culture that thoroughly tugged at her heart strings. As the performers brought by the colors of past contrade, she felt her eyes mist slightly. They were taking part in something centuries old. 

This wild derby of craft and cleverness withstood a daunting test of time. The people of Siena were holding its importance in their hearts, keeping the tradition alive through years of war, years of peace, years of plenty, and years of want. Centuries later, the Sienese still stood, young and old, cheering and singing their songs with pride.

It was a terribly lovely thing, to be a part of something which was held so dear.

Raymond watched her features avidly. Even behind her sunglasses, he could see she was moved by the proceedings. She saw the value in old things, in tradition. It was one of the more endearing things he had learned about her.

Jacopo was singing a roaring tune with his contrada, all but shaking the stands with their song. The portly old fellow was having a terribly good time, even if his contrada was not competing. He had done his part to sabotage their rivals and bolster their allies, and now sat back to enjoy the festivities.

It wasn’t until he started telling stories of his contrada’s various Palio misdeeds did the group really get rowdy.

Rosalie was in tears of laughter as Jacopo told her and Raymond a story from his teens. Apparently, he and his friends had sprayed the scent of a mare on a pillar where the Torre contrada’s horse was going to be tethered. Torre’s horse was, of course, a stallion, who could hardly be bothered to stumble his way around the track by the time the race came around.

“Oh, poor old boy.” Rosalie tutted, wiping the mirth from her eyes.

Raymond let out a barking laugh. “Yes, I can’t possibly imagine what that must be like.” He groused, staring pointedly at the tease who had spent the better part of the day tormenting him.

The look on Rosalie’s face was priceless. 

Slowly, the horses and jockeys began to line up at the start. The names of each contrada were called out in the order of the lot they drew, followed by the run-in horse at the end.

“Now, what does it cost to bribe the run-in jockey?” Asked Rosalie, leaning into Jacopo’s ear.

“Roughly €70,000.” Said Jacopo, his eyes not leaving the start. “The run-in jockey could swing the whole race, so he is paid very handsomely.”

The whole piazza watched with bated breath, it was the quietest they had been all day.

There were several false starts before finally, the run-in jockey took off like a bullet.

The noise was deafening as the crowd took up their cheering and the horses came sprinting past.

Red clapped and whistled loudly as the jockey for Pantera took a spectacular dive off the chestnut stallion he was riding. 

Rosalie’s contrada, Civetta, was lingering in the background, as unlikely to win as ever. She laughed at the thought as the riders came about for the first lap, the stands around them exploding with noise.

Raymond had bet on Oca, and was so far in the lead. Trecciolino, the jockey, had already won the Palio thrice. It bode well for Red’s chosen contrada. 

It also helped that Red had foot a few bribes to ease his path.

Rosalie felt Raymond’s tall frame lean into hers, mentally willing his horse to win. They all leaned forward as the horses came hurtling around the track for the second lap.

It was incredible, they not only heard the sound of thundering hooves, they could positively feel it as the percussive galloping reverberated off the walls and into the stands.

“Come on,” muttered Red, “just a bit longer.” 

Oca was in the lead, but just barely holding it. The horse from Pantera was hot on his trail. Even without its jockey, the other horse could still win the race.

Raymond grasped Rosalie’s waist as the horses came thundering toward the finish line just past their seats. The crowd was roaring yet everything seemed to go silent as they watched Oca cross the finish line in the lead.

The piazza rang with song, cheering, and screaming from the Oca contrada. They had won, with Pantera coming in at a close second. 

The revelers took to the track, celebrating and whooping their elation.

Red was grinning broadly, incredibly pleased with his win. 

Beside the group of victors was a rather vicious-looking group of men. One was wearing a slick suit and was positively screaming at a young man, hitting him repeatedly across the face.

Rosalie’s eyes snapped toward the commotion, narrowing at a young jockey and the barbaresco of a contrada having a rather boisterous row. 

The horse belonged to Pantera, which had come in second out of the Contrade, without its jockey. This was in many ways worse than losing by a wide margin. 

The creature had flattened his ears, understandably nervous with all of the noise. 

The rider was awfully young, all of 18, maybe less. The poor thing was covered in dirt from his fall and now had a bloody nose to boot.

It was when the barbaresco had raised the whip toward the skittish animal that Rosalie’s temper roared to the surface.

Without hesitating or consulting her cohorts, the woman leapt the barrier and strode hotly toward the commotion.

The men glanced at each other with varying degrees of amusement, which immediately turned to concern as the brazen hellcat reached her target, Pantera’s barbaresco, a man by the name of Diamanté. 

Rosalie stepped so she was nose to nose with the Sienese heavyweight, refusing to shrink at his snarling. Her smoking grey eyes narrowed nastily at the man as she shouted right back at him in fluent, fiery Italian. 

Jacopo roared in delight, leaping to join the fray with several men of his contrada, young and old, supporting the woman who was setting Diamanté in his place. 

Raymond, Horace, Dembe, and Stratos followed, getting separated in the rapidly growing crowd. 

Rosalie was rattling off more than a few choice words. The Onda contrada accepted the blazing virago as one of their own, surrounding her on all sides to take up her cause with boisterous, rude gestures in the enemy’s direction.

Red reached her first. He tugged her shoulder, turning her into his chest, inserting himself as a pillar of support in the rapidly heating argument.

“Vai a cacare, troi!” The fat man groused, waving the young woman off.

The comment sent Rosalie whipping back into the fray, a barrage of fierce retorts dripping from her tongue like acid.

Several men from Onda also rushed forward, offended on her behalf. The bustling crowd managed to wedge itself between Raymond and Rosalie, with Red just barely able to see the head of blond hair beneath the horde. The elusive woman had wiggled her way back to the front of the crowd, her eyes blazing at her opponent.

Dembe appeared beside him and pressed a phone into Red’s hand. The bodyguard had already dialled Jacopo, who was somewhere in the mass of people.

“Che cosa?” He answered, the sound on the other end deafening.

“Jacopo, I need you to make absolutely certain nothing happens to Rosalie.” Red worked his way along the outside edge of the group, straining to catch a glimpse of the fedora-clad blonde in the centre of the fray.

“Not to worry, I’ve got your piccola amante. We’ll get her out in one piece.” Jacopo assured, commanding the others in booming Italian.

Raymond watched as the men surrounding Jacopo turned to relay the message to those around them, his nerves settling slightly.

Horace was attempting to push his way through the crowd to get to his charge, but to no avail. The contrada had taken up her protection at Raymond’s behest and were not about to let anyone else into the altercation.

Rosalie’s argument with the Sienese barbaresco was reaching a fevered pitch.

“Li mortacci tua!” she snarled, her full lips caressing the words with almost indecent enjoyment.

Raymond couldn’t help but grin with pride at her gumption. He wasn’t great spades at Italian, but he knew the phrase she uttered was quite the rejoinder.

The men around Rosalie took up the insult, chanting it merrily in the other man’s face. They sing-songed the retort, turning it into a delightfully crude serenade.

Their taunting hit a nerve, and the towering meatball of a man made the grave mistake of lifting a hand towards the woman. 

Before Red could even begin battling his way through the crowd, the contrada swarmed in around Rosalie. The men spun, guided, and lifted her in a whirl of movement so she was deposited safely outside of the fight, directly in front of one relieved Raymond Reddington.

He confronted the fiery woman before him. Her breasts heaved against the aquamarine romper, her cheeks ablaze and the small hands at her sides were balled into angry fists. 

Red’s eyes belied his amusement as he reached to tug on one of the golden curls nestled beneath his fedora. 

“Now, what manner of chaos have you managed to orchestrate today, my dear?"

The woman breathed deeply, smirking as she looked up past the brim of his fedora. “I told him the Contrada Pantera could sell me their horse and treat their jockey like a human being, or, I could funnel my considerable wealth and talents into assisting their rival, La Contrada Dell’Aquila. I’ve heard they are quite the handful.”

Raymond snorted indelicately, thinking her threat certainly wasn’t idle. The last time Aquila won, the contrada had blasted mottos mocking Pantera from their church’s bell tower for over a month straight.

“ _That’s not all you said_.” He chided knowingly, cocking his head at her.

Rosalie tittered mischievously, stepping into the man’s sphere and dimpling up at him. “I might have said something along the lines of his bastard ancestors…”

Her usually gentle and warm voice held a heated, playful tone that stroked the fire of Raymond’s arousal back to an unbearable inferno.

Reddington lifted the woman bodily onto his shoulder, chortling darkly and shaking his head as she continued to goad Diamanté.

“Porca Misera! Coglione!” she cheered in solidarity as the young jockey sank a fist into the barbaresco’s jaw. “Dammit Raymond,” she giggled, her small hand swatting him playfully, just barely making contact with the man’s firm rump. “Put me down!” 

“Careful now, I thought Stratos told you I enjoyed that sort of thing.”

Rosalie laughed her merriment, adding a pinch for good measure.

The man deposited her in the shadow of a nearby archway. His masculine frame blocked any path of escape, forcing Rosalie to halt her movements and look up at him with wide eyes.

Straight-backed and formidable, the Concierge of Crime prowled toward her, setting her heart racing. 

Rosalie balked. It was moments like this when she was forcibly reminded of who the man was. His frame seemed taller, broader, he towered over her. The sheer masculinity he exuded was all-consuming, and it made her feel wonderfully nervous. 

Raymond backed her into the darkest corner of the archway and Rosalie nearly yelped as she felt the solid, immovable stone wall appear behind her. 

He had her pinned, and there was nowhere for her to go. 

She quite liked it.

Raymond’s powerful arms pressed both hands against the wall behind her, bracketing the little spitfire so she couldn’t move an inch without brushing against a very amused fugitive. 

He turned his head, tracing the tip of his nose along the hollow at the base of her neck. The dark, delectable sound of his laughter reverberated pleasantly along Rosalie’s skin.

The simple gesture sent shock waves through the woman, pulling her mind from her previous pursuits entirely. She leaned into his warm mouth as it opened, suckling and nipping the spot intently. 

“You are a _fiery_ little Machiavellian, aren’t you?” he teased, thrilling in the tremors that wracked her feminine frame. 

He adored her. 

She was a vivacious, devious creature, and before the day was over, Red would have her. 

He was planning for the eventuality even now.

Before Rosalie could reply, before she knew what was happening, Red’s mouth was devouring hers. His hands wandered, one curling into the ample curve of her backside, the other sliding along the front of her romper, dragging a thumb over the pert nipple he found straining against the fabric.

Rosalie’s arms wrapped instinctively around his neck leaning into his touch as he thoroughly ravaged her. She found she liked this rough handling, a breathy moan working its way out of her throat as he teased and tormented her.

Raymond relinquished her kiss-swollen mouth, his dark eyes burning into the woman wedged into the corner.

“My contrada won, my little dove.” 

The deep grey eyes looked up at him, watching in fascination as his lips formed the words. He had never called her ‘little dove’ before. Rosalie felt an unexpected squirm of delight at the endearment.

“I’ve been forced to watch you strut around in this little getup for hours, knowing exactly what you’ve got hidden beneath.” He chastised, giving her a stern look even as she flashed an impish smile up at him.

“I thought you enjoyed my surprise?” She asked innocently, her face a perfect mask of mock disappointment.

Reddington leaned forward to speak directly into her ear. “Oh, my little deviant,” he purred, “I loved it. So much so, I’ve decided what my prize will be for winning our wager.”

Rosalie froze. _He couldn’t possibly… He couldn’t mean…_

He cocked his head, watching her reaction hungrily. “Now you can strut around the rest of the day knowing that when you least expect it, I’m going to steal those lovely little white panties from you.” 

The statement made her jaw drop and her thighs squeeze together in anticipation.

“And there is _nothing_ you can do to keep me from my prize.” Raymond promised, leaning back enough to take in the sight of the trembling, disheveled woman.

After her shenanigans in the shower that morning, he had been looking for his opportunity to regain control of their antics. The last minute bribe had secured his contrada’s win, garnering him that opportunity.

The shock written plainly on Rosalie’s face made the man chuckle. If she hadn’t also been squirming with excitement Raymond might have thought he’d gone too far.

Instead, he had sparked a wildfire in her which he looked forward to stoking over the coming hours. He’d guaranteed she would be on her toes the rest of the day, waiting for him to take what was his. She’d be elusive, hard to get. 

Red looked forward to the challenge. He would still find ways to corner her, he would tease and excite her to the point of all but giving him the item. 

Unable to quell the delectable fantasies involving the little blonde, Raymond tempered his arousal by claiming her lips again.

Poor Jacopo made his way back through the brawling crowd with a split lip and a boyish grin. The man looked like he had won the lottery.

“Raymond!” He bellowed, walking toward the pair with arms outstretched, “You and your… Oh, ho, ho!” He stumbled upon the amorous couple sequestered in a dark corner of a nearby archway.

Red didn’t even hear the man’s approach, so intent was he on teasing the woman trapped between himself and the stone wall.

Rosalie was at his mercy, each touch and caress driving her wild as Raymond kissed her senseless.

The pair finally broke for air, the tension between them painfully heavy, only to find Jacopo, several members of his contrada, Horace, and Dembe waiting patiently for their presence to be acknowledged.

“Um…” murmured Rosalie, looking over his shoulder at the small crowd, one of whom gave a loud wolf-whistle. She turned back to Raymond. 

The man was entirely unfazed at them being caught. He turned slightly, leaving one hand behind her on the wall and allowing the other to drop to his trouser pocket.

“Well that was fun.” He quipped, looking blithely back at the group. “Now, what’s this I heard about dinner in Onda? I’m positively famished.”

He turned to Rosalie, “Shall we? I’m sure you worked up an appetite starting a war amongst the contrade.”

The woman’s cheeks turned scarlet at the statement, making Dembe and Horace both snort with laughter. 

She cast them both a poor attempt at a scathing look, willing them to help end her misery.

Dembe, the saint, came to her rescue. “Perhaps we are all ready for the calm of the dinner table, regardless of our Palio activities.”

The woman mouthed an emphatic thank you to the young bodyguard, garnering a brilliant smile from him.

The couple joined their group, grinning sheepishly as they turned toward the Onda.

Before they could begin venturing outside of the piazza, however, a band of surly looking Sienese men came striding up to them in slick suits.

Jacopo narrowed his eyes at the man in the middle. He was short, wiry, and had the demeanor of an aged jackal. “Stefano.” He grunted curtly, taking a sidelong step closer to the woman in the center of their group. 

Red felt Jacopo’s remaining contrada members shift inward as well, bracketing them on all sides.

Stefano eyed them all blithely. “I would like to speak to your young Epona, alone.” 

“No.” Replied Jacopo, his voice stony as he glowered at the man.

The grizzled old Sienese seemed in no mood. His dark brown eyes zeroed in on Rosalie, rattling off in rapid Italian.

Raymond’s countenance shifted to suspicious dislike. The man’s tone did not sound entirely polite.

Rosalie strode confidently forward, the mask of the criminal calmly in place as she sized up this new threat. She responded in a formal lilting Italian, taking up the conversation without much ado. 

Red watched her body language carefully for cues. 

Rosalie’s hands remained folded delicately in front of her. She was straight-backed, pleasant yet firm in her dealing. She showed an incredible level of poise for someone who had just nearly engaged in a fist fight.

Their conversation carried on for some time, switching to the dulcet tones of what Raymond recognized as a negotiation.

Rosalie became much more unyielding in her tone and posture as the negotiation went on.

Finally they seemed to come to an agreement. Stefano held out his hand, his voice dropping to a deeper, much more pleasant sound. 

Rosalie’s eyes narrowed, taking his hand whilst stepping closer to Raymond. When Stefano released her hand, she placed it significantly on Red’s arm retorting in a smooth, clipped tone.

The wiry old man’s dark eyes turned to Reddington. “You have quite the woman, Mr. Reddington.” Stefano commented dryly.

“I most certainly do.” Agreed Raymond, his head cocked and his green eyes boring into the other man. The arm Rosalie had grasped moved to wrap protectively about her hips.

Stefano seemed to recognize the subtle threat behind the gaze, nodding back to Rosalie before striding off with his cronies in tow. One of the young men stayed behind, holding the reins of Pantera’s horse.

Rosalie held out her hand imperiously,into which he placed the reins before scurrying off after his group.

“I take it you got your prize?” Asked Red, eyeing the large chestnut stallion with interest.

“I make no idle threats.” Confirmed Rosalie, “I decided this horse needed a home with me. Stefano disagreed, and I offered to pull every last one of my criminal strings to ensure Pantera became the next Nonna.” 

Raymond and the other men roared with laughter as Rosalie gave a sardonic little curtsy.

“And that’s the story of how I blackmailed my way to a racehorse from the Palio of July 1999.”

Her cohorts were pleased with the turn of events, taking it in turns to pet and examine the large animal. 

His name was Re Artú, ‘King Arthur’. He had ran a few Palios already, and was nine years old. For a stallion, he had a rather calm demeanor, standing quietly alongside his new owner. His beautiful chestnut coat was spotted with a few whipping marks which made Rosalie’s blood boil.

She held the horse’s bridle, softly stroking the animal’s nose as she cooed lovingly to him. 

“There now, old boy.” She soothed, reaching to pat the horse’s neck, “You are going to have a gentle, quiet life from now on. I promise.” The large animal nuzzled its head against her torso affectionately, ears pricked forward to listen to the woman’s soothing voice.

The comment plucked at Raymond’s heart strings. There was nothing quite like the Palio, but it was easy to forget how violent it could be. The level of craftiness and skulduggery employed by the jockeys and the contrade was thrilling, but that never lessened the concern for the animals involved. 

He had known the young woman had a soft spot for creatures who could not defend themselves, the haven she had at Break Maiden being a testament to it.

The young jockey who had ridden the horse limped stiffly up to Rosalie. He was bracketed on both sides by bodyguards, there to protect him from the furious Pantera crowd. “Buonasera, Signorina Eponina.” 

Rosalie tilted her head at the greeting, forgetting what the word Epona meant. She let it go as the barbaresco of the Civetta contrada made his way over to her as well. 

“Signorina Eponina,” he greeted, using the same word. “La Contrada Civetta would like to care for this horse for you until such a time your people can retrieve him.” 

Rosalie smiled warmly at the man and the jockey, “Would you? I’d be incredibly grateful, it will be a week or so before I can arrange transport.” 

Both men beamed back at her. 

The barbaresco replied, “Re Artú rode his very first Palio for Civetta. He is one of Siena’s finest. We would consider it an honor.” 

The woman gratefully relinquished the reins, leaving the contact information of her associate at Break Maiden, who would arrange transport for Artú.

She kissed both men’s cheeks in thanks, speaking for a long moment with the young jockey before the men guided the horse down the track and out of sight.

Rosalie turned and smiled softly at her counterparts, “Well that’s convenient. I believe we were off to grab dinner?”

The merry band let out an amused murmur of assent, turning and heading for the streets of Onda.

************************************************************************************************************

An hour later, they sat at another massive table in the city’s streets, talking, laughing and dining with gusto.

“Jacoppo, cosa significa Epona?” Asked Rosalie in curiosity, both the jockey and the barbaresco had called her Eponina, but it wasn’t ringing any bells in Rosalie’s Italian vocabulary.

Jacoppo laughed as a troop of young men came drunkenly swaying by, singing a rambunctious tune about the very deity of which she asked. 

“Epona was the Roman goddess of horses, travellers, and dreamers.” He explained fondly, extending a hand to top off their wine. “It would seem you have garnered the affection of the Siennese.” 

His head nodded at the young group of men, who were still singing and making sweeping, amorous gestures back at their table.

“The horses of the Palio are deeply loved; it’s the jockeys who are distrusted and often disliked.” Explained Jacopo, gesturing about with the wine carafe. “Many people witnessed your confrontation with Diamanté. The notion he was going to take his anger out on Artú would be a dark stain upon the reputation of La Pantera and the role of Barbaresco.” He continued, “They love you for protecting the animal, and so they give you the pet name of Epona, or Eponina as a sign of affection and appreciation.”

Rosalie shook her head softly, “I would have preferred not to earn the nickname.”

Jacopo patted her shoulder fondly. “It was a good thing, you’ve put Pantera under scrutiny. The contrada’s next choices for barbaresco will reflect that.”

The thought soothed Rosalie’s irritation, allowing her to return to the festivities with relish.

Raymond thoroughly enjoyed terrorizing her the rest of the evening. He had cornered her thrice, each time his antics becoming more daring. He had started by simply teasing the edges of her attire, stroking the ticklish spots on the backs of her thighs, making her squirm and giggle, wondering if he was going to take his prize then. He had grinned as he was called away to settle up his bets.

Red next found her delightfully alone in the restaurant’s hallway, having just escaped one of Jacopo’s talkative daughters. The man had relished dragging her into the nearby phone booth and encompassing her with his broad frame. He had tugged her hair to the side and pulled the zipper of her romper halfway down as he nibbled her neck teasingly earning a string of breathy moans and a squeal of delight from his captive. A loud, strategic knock had waylaid any further exploration, and Red had hastily zipped her back up before goosing her playfully from the booth.

Raymond now had her pinned in a doorway around the side of the restaurant. Her toned legs bracketed one of his thighs, keeping her close as he kissed and caressed her without mercy. 

“Raymond.” She whimpered, arching her hips into his, willing him to end the agony.

“Tell me what you need.” He moaned ardently, sucking her earlobe between his teeth and revelling in the feel of her little hands clawing at his back.

The delighted moan that reached his ears had him gripping her hips tightly and dragging her hips along his thigh.

Rosalie mewled, the action making her knees wobble. “God, Raymond I _need-_ ”

A group of youngsters interrupted their fun, making catcalls and wolf whistles as they both groaned in amused frustration.

“Kids these days.” Growled Red, throwing a glare their way before pulling the giggling woman back toward their group.

***********************************************************************************************************

It wasn’t until they were back at Stratos’s apartment that Rosalie grew weary of their game. She now somehow _wanted_ him to take her lingerie. She was dying to know how, when, and were he would do so. 

Raymond’s confident face held a predatory grin as she strode into the lounge, effectively cornering _him_ this time.

“To the victor the spoils.” She laughed that tinkling laugh, her hands reaching to caress his neck. 

Red ached for want of her. His whole body felt like a live wire, crackling and sparking with heat. He wanted to take her and ravage her till they both couldn’t stand, but he was closing in on the long game.

What he wanted was one thing, but what he needed, truly, deeply _needed_ was another issue entirely. He could table his wants for a moment longer, the greater prize seemingly within reach.

“Since Civetta not only lost but came in last, I think I should get two prizes.” Chuckled Raymond brazenly, stretching his luck as far as it would go.

“Oh is that so?” Laughed Rosalie, “What, are you going to take your fedora back while you’re at it?”

“No.” He conceded, “I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I will never get that particular Borsalino back. It belongs with your little turquoise jumpsuit.”

Rosalie’s eyes danced in good humor, “Then what could I possibly offer you, darling?”

“I want an answer.” Red rumbled, tilting his head back to look up at the woman. 

She continued stroking his body, slowly, gently, her brow furrowing in confusion. “To what? You haven’t asked a question.”

Raymond held her eyes masterfully. “What is it that has kept you from me?”

She stopped all movement, her grey eyes widening. “W-what?”

He grasped her small hands, pulling them back down his chest. “We both have our reasons for denying ourselves what we so obviously desire.” He crooned, “I know my reason is to keep you safe from what’s coming for me, but I don’t know yours.”

Rosalie hesitated, his request leaving her open and vulnerable. Horace had urged her to pursue the possibility, God knows she wanted to.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” She admitted quietly, “I don’t want to be used against you.” Her eyes were so heart-warmingly kind as she cupped his cheek. “I want to be with you, very much, but I don’t know how we could do that when I could be a terrible liability for you.”

“My darling girl, you are already a liability for me.” Raymond sighed in relief, Dembe was right, her response was better than he could have possibly imagined. She had no qualms about his life as a criminal, held no concerns about her safety with him. 

Her only worry was a romantic relationship could make her a point of weakness for him. 

Raymond could work with that.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, suspense burning him from the inside out.

“Of course.” Rosalie said automatically, the instantaneous response taking even herself by surprise.

“Do you believe I can and would do anything I felt necessary to keep you safe?”

Her eyes held his confidently. “I do.”

“Then _why_ aren’t we together?” His voice stressed the question, as though they were committing a cardinal sin by denying themselves what they so obviously needed. The deep green eyes watched her avidly, waiting for her response.

“I’m afraid, Raymond, terrified, really.” She confessed, her head tilting down, the slate eyes unable to meet his. “You and I know better than anyone how dangerous this could be.”

Red lobbied passionately. “Give me a chance to prove I can protect you, that I can be something good and kind and loving, for you.” 

The young woman’s brow furrowed and she lifted her soft hands to cradle his face, guiding his gaze to hers. “Raymond, there is not a doubt in my mind that you already are all of those things.” She whispered, willing him to see what she saw in him. He should believe he was something good and kind and loving regardless of her involvement. He didn’t need to prove anything to her.

The conviction in her voice convinced Raymond he was right to pursue her.

He had a seemingly boundless, formidable empire and a vicious reputation. He could protect her, care for her, love her better than any other. Given the chance, he was certain he could calm her fears and give her a life as vibrant and wild as she was.

There was just one last question he needed answered.

“What if I told you everything about me is a lie?” He asked, wording the question most carefully.

Rosalie shrugged nonchalantly, “I would say that makes two of us.” 

She wasn’t a stranger to a murky past, the keeper of one herself. She would never begrudge him his secrets the same way he wouldn’t begrudge her hers.

“It wouldn’t bother you?” prodded Red, “If we were together, in every sense of the word, could you honestly say you wouldn’t need to know the truth about who I was, someday?”

“Yes” she said sincerely, rounding the chair and perching herself comfortably on his lap. 

She continued, “Does your past change the way you feel about me? Does it somehow diminish your interest, your desire? Does it lessen how much you care for me?”

The statement had the man gaping at her, a lone brow quirked in astonishment. 

No one, not one single person had ever responded to this question in such a way.

“No.” He said, his deep voice firm and sincere.

“Then, and I hate to sound so cavalier, who you were is of very little consequence to me.” 

Rosalie’s thumb traced his jaw tenderly, her eyes softening as her other hand reached up to card through his hair. “I know the man I see every day.” She murmured gently.

“I know the man who occupies my bed most nights.” 

The green eyes flickered heatedly along the delicate line of her shoulders.

The look made her smile warmly. “Surprising though it may be, I know _you_ well.”

She continued her gentle caresses, her voice the very definition of sincerity. “I know when your appetite is poor, if I accidentally toss blackberries into my oatmeal, you will still steal them for me.” 

The comment made him break out into a wide smile and a devilish chuckle, terribly fond memories of Amsterdam running through his mind. 

She warmed to her explanation, “I know you like cashmere, but only in scarves, the linings of gloves, and those sweaters I got you. I also know you have a soft spot for animals, which you make _no_ attempt to hide.”

Her amusement diminished slightly, replaced with something vulnerable and honest. “I know you consider your enemies’ families off limits, though you said you have them watched, I know you would never lay a finger on them. I know you’re endlessly chivalrous, wooing women with your old fashioned manners and style, whether you intend to or not.” 

She reached to grasp his hand, cradling the larger appendage in her own small ones. 

Raymond watched, enchanted as she lifted it gently, placing a feather light kiss to his palm, her thumb brushing back and forth across the surface. 

“I know if there were any such thing as honour among thieves, it would begin and end with you.”

Rosalie felt a tightness in her chest as the words washed over the man holding her. She drank in his response, the way his eyelashes fluttered and his whole body seemed to heave a sigh of relief, of happiness. 

She placed her cheek in his outstretched hand, sighing contentedly at the way he cupped it so gently, so perfectly.

“I may not know your past, where you were born, or the man you once were. But I know _this_ Raymond Reddington.” She insisted, placing her palm to his chest. 

“I know you the way a woman should know a lover.” Her lips caressed the last word beautifully.

Raymond felt a tremor of delight ripple through his body.

The reaction had Rosalie radiating with warmth and affection in his lap.

“It doesn’t matter what your name was, what your name is.” She laughed that tinkling laugh, “Howe, Kershaw, Donnelly, whatever you’re going by today, I’m enamoured with the man beneath the names.”

The man’s heart pounded with a steady rhythm of hope. Raymond immediately closed the distance between them, holding Rosalie as tightly as possible to his broad frame. A large hand threaded through her blonde tresses, holding her to him as he kissed her with every ounce of burning hunger he had been holding back.

Rosalie matched his passion, happily moulding to his touch, taking what he freely gave, offering what she had to give.

They stayed in their passionate tangle of lips and tongues for some time, finally breaking the spell when their need for oxygen won out.

“No more games.” Raymond gasped, not relinquishing his hold on her in the slightest.

Rosalie nodded, “No more games.” she agreed.

“Then you and I are going to pursue this. A relationship. Agreed?”

The request was spoken with such a wonderful finality, it had Rosalie nodding before he could finish.

Raymond claimed her lips again, revelling in the moment of her acquiescence.

Finally, he had her.

The little woman happily wriggled in his grasp, getting as close to him as possible.

A thought occurred to Raymond, and he reluctantly parted from her lips to clarify.

“You do realize this means we are sleeping in our own beds for a while.”

Rosalie’s crestfallen face actually made the man laugh.

“Why on earth would we do that?” She asked, “We’ve been sleeping in the same bed all this time.”

“Yes, but I intend to do this the right way.” He explained prodding the delicate nose which was scrunched at this revolting development.

“We’re criminals, we don’t have to do anything the _‘right’_ way.” She insisted, her tone one of utmost dismay.

“You know that’s not true.” He laughed, placing a smattering of gentler kisses along her neck.

“Besides,” he growled, enjoying the shiver running along her body, “Imagine how good it’s going to feel when we finally do return to the same bed.”

Rosalie mewled softly, still not convinced of his plan, his mouth distracting her from the issue.

“I still don’t see the point in separating if we are going to be dating anyway.”

A large hand crept into her curls, fisting the silky strands and gently tugging to expose more of her sensitive flesh to his attention.

“Because…” he sucked on her pulse point, “I have been very much looking forward to seducing you.”

A sweet little gasp leapt from her mouth followed by a husky moan.

Raymond committed the sweet spot he’d found to memory and catalogued the noise she made for his enjoyment later.

“I can say with utmost confidence, you’ve already achieved your goal.” she groaned, her hips unconsciously rocking against his pelvis.

“Hmm… perhaps.” he chuckled darkly, pressing his rock hard erection against her. “But it’s not quite to my satisfaction yet.”

Rosalie whimpered at his words, wondering how long he would torment her like this.

“I like a woman to be wet, aching, and trembling with want when I take her to bed.” He purred in her ear.

The playful green eyes of Raymond Reddington glinted a dark cunning as they bore down on Rosalie. 

Her body did indeed tremble under his confident gaze. 

“Hey Rosie, I’ve got-” Horace walked into the lounge, stopping in his tracks at the sight of the pair in a rather compromising position.

“New rule.” Grumbled Rosalie, “Knock before entering.”

“New rule.” Horace roared a barking laugh, “Don’t get it on in shared spaces when there are literally dozens of people in the house.”

A parade of people started filtering into the room, forcing the amorous pair to separate.

Rosalie complained at length, garnering a wink and a sly smile from her companion.

****************************************************************************************************

_Later that night…_

Raymond let Rosalie think she was safe. 

She had gone to bed a short while earlier, the men had continued to celebrate in the lounge.

Red was now the last man standing, Dembe having gone to bed moments earlier.

Rosalie had watched him carefully as she left, the obvious question in her gaze.

He had allowed her to think he forgot his earlier promise. 

He most certainly had not.

The criminal purely lay in wait, drinking his scotch patiently and allowing her to be lulled into a false sense of security.

As the clock struck midnight, Red stood and set his glass on the desk with a heavy _thunk_.

His slow, deliberate footsteps echoed down the long hallway to Rosalie’s room.

Part of him wanted her to hear him coming, to hear the sound of him prowling toward her in the dark.

Another part of him wanted her to be taken by surprise, to wake to his broad frame poised above her with no means of escape.

Both were incredibly titillating fantasies, stirring the man’s cock to life.

As Raymond reached the door, he stopped to listen. No noise could be heard within.

He stealthily reached out and grasped the handle, turning it silently and opening the door without a sound.

Rosalie lay atop the blankets, sleeping peacefully in an emerald green silk negligee.

Raymond flashed a predatory grin, closing the door silently behind him. He toed off his shoes before stalking toward the sleeping figure on the bed. 

Making his way to the foot of the bed, Raymond carefully knelt on the mattress. 

Slowly, his hand traced a burning trail up one of her legs.

The sleeping woman let out a pleased mew, wriggling slightly beneath him. 

Red smiled in the dark, leaning down to place his warm lips along her knee and up her thigh, nipping the supple flesh as he continued his trek.

His large hands bracketed her outer thighs, sliding painstakingly slowly up the soft skin. 

Rosalie stirred as he reached the swell of her hips, his hands gliding easily beneath the hem of her negligee.

The tickling sensation of his fingertips along her sensitive skin had the woman jolting awake with a gasp.

Rosalie was inundated with the masculine scent and palpable presence of one Raymond Reddington. 

The man knelt poised over her, his fingers swirling teasing circles over her hips.

“Raymond…” she hummed, hoping he wasn’t just a dream.

“I believe you have something of mine.” Red growled, the rumble of his voice vibrating deliciously along her every nerve ending. 

He had come to claim what was his.

His hands continued their teasing strokes as he cocked his head at her.

“Tell me, darling, are you wanting?” 

“Yes, Raymond.” She breathed, watching in fascination as his wandering inched the hem of her night dress slowly upward.

“Do you ache for me?”

“Yes.” She admitted readily, any pride a forgotten entity as the garment’s edge hovered precariously, just barely covering her panties.

Red’s visage turned incredibly dark as he slid a large hand up the back of one of her toned, trembling legs.

“Let’s find out if you’re as wet as I think you are. Hmm?” Raymond purred, palming her bare ass cheek. He kneaded the pert mound before bending forward and kissing her lips. Her mouth opened to him and her hot little tongue happily danced with his, stroking him in wicked fashion. Red broke the contact, peppering her cheeks with light caresses, then her neck, then the valley between her breasts, before shifting his weight back toward the foot of the bed.

With a groan of longing, Red twitched the hem of the negligee upward, exposing the prize he had spent all day thinking about.

Rosalie let out a soft squeal of surprise at being all but bared to his lascivious attention. She reached instinctively to cover herself, but a large, powerful hand snatched her wrist before she could shield herself. 

Raymond’s eyes burned into her as he gently tilted her hand upward, placing his lips to her palm and wrist. “No.” He commanded in a soft, deadly voice.

The sound flitted through the woman’s mind, bending her to his whim. She nodded minutely, relaxing her body and opening to his exploration.

The man practically purred his approval, kissing her wrist once more before placing the limb gently to the side.

Rosalie’s breath was coming in shivering gasps and her nerves sparked as Red settled between her legs. 

When Raymond looked up to meet her gaze, she saw his pupils were blown wide and there was a wildfire lurking in their depths as he leaned forward.

Without taking his eyes off of hers, Raymond placed a scorching, teasing kiss to the snow white garment.

Rosalie couldn’t hold back a shocked squeal at feeling his hot breath and his lips brush against her. “R-Raymond” She exhaled shakily, her hips bucking at the unexpected action.

An animalistic growl rumbled through Red’s chest as he felt her quake beneath him. He nuzzled the lace adoringly, drawing another helpless moan from her throat. Raymond scented her arousal through the minuscule slip of lace, his mouth watering at his future plans for the sweet little mound. 

Red felt his resolve teetering on a razor’s edge and pulled away from the valley of with no small amount of effort. He tugged the hem of her negligee back down, hiding the tempting triangle from his sight. 

Returning to the purpose of his visit, the hand palming her derrière shifted, a finger sneaking beneath the band of her lingerie before pulling the tiny slip of lace past her curves in one swift movement.

The motion elicited a surprised gasp from Rosalie as she felt the cool evening air ghost along her suddenly bared sex.

Raymond cupped the backs of her thighs and lifted her effortlessly, shifting her further up the bed.

Rosalie voiced her despair at the loss of contact. Her chin lifted, seeking him out as he laid her back amongst the pillows.

Red leaned into the action, languidly exploring her mouth to his heart’s content as she settled into the plush surface. 

Again he pulled away, his face a heated, devilish smirk. The green eyes held hers without blinking as Raymond’s warm hands slid along the soft expanse of her thighs, his fingers curling around the miniscule garment hidden beneath the hem of her night gown. 

He shimmied the item further down her limbs, moaning brokenly when the alabaster panties came into view, completely parted from their previous companion.

He memorized their every detail, the cut, the intricate lace pattern, the startling colour contrast between the fabric and the woman’s skin.

Rosalie lifted her feet, her lips parted in a small ‘o’ of aroused disbelief as Red claimed the token of her affection. He skirted the white lace all the way down her lovely legs before finally dangling it from one finger for her viewing pleasure. 

It was certainly an erotic sight, the Concierge of Crime holding her minuscule piece of lingerie possessively. Raymond eyed her steadily as he brought the scrap of lace to his lips.

Rosalie watched with a tiny gasp of intrigue as the man kissed the lace. The scent of her arousal hung heavy in the air again, stirring Raymond to ever-increasing flights of fantasy. 

“You are a wet, wanton little thing, aren’t you Rosalie?” 

His voice was even deeper, growling and gravelled as his attentive gaze burned along her skin.

Rosalie mewed piteously, the valley between her legs throbbing without mercy. The blonde head couldn’t help but nod, a vibrant blush staining her cheeks.

 _Fuck_. 

Red hadn’t expected that despondent little nod. He was quickly becoming enthralled with how responsive she was.

The confirmation of her need spoke to the primal foundations of his body. The virile man within wanted desperately to heed the call, to satisfy her every yearning desire until she wanted for nothing and no one but him.

The fathoms-deep grey eyes held his imploringly. She was aching so perfectly, the pang of arousal in her body outstripped all else.

“I know,” he purred his sympathy, the quivering of her thighs beckoning to him. “We’ve waited so long, and no amount of… _self indulgence_ has been enough to satisfy, has it, my little dove?”

Rosalie shook her head quietly, her wide eyes shining brightly as another tingle of arousal skated along her body. She was rapidly becoming attached to his chosen endearment. Something about it made her feel safe, adored, and oh so very warm.

Raymond advanced slowly, bringing his body flush with hers, his bulk pinning her beneath him.

Instinctively, Rosalie wrapped her legs around his waist, wriggling in pleasure at the feel of his heavy weight settling on top of her.

Red wrapped an arm around her, the other braced against the soft surface of the bed. His hand dropped to grasp one rounded globe of her backside, arching her hips up into his.

The action brushed her bare sex against the man’s cloth-covered erection, pulling a needy cry from the woman’s throat.

“Let’s take care of that, hmm?” Red purred enticingly, nibbling her neck as he rut the length of his cock against her hot, wet center.

Rosalie gasped, arching her hips to meet his. “Please, Raymond.”

Her soft, sweet voice was going to be the death of him. The man would burn the world to the ground for the sake of hearing her repeat the request. 

_‘Please, Raymond.’_

It made his shaft twitch in delighted agony.

His hips rolled expertly against Rosalie’s, teasing her lust-addled body with what she wanted.

He wouldn’t give it to her, not yet anyway. 

Raymond had been honest when he said he was looking forward to seducing her. He wanted to woo her, to properly bed her, to earn the right to claim every quaking inch of her for his own. 

Red increased his efforts, shifting so his stocky thighs were flush with hers, spreading them wide so he could further his assault on her sensitive flesh. 

Rosalie writhed at the added pressure, her body creeping ever closer to release. Her breathing was shallow and laboured, her entire being concerned only with achieving their climax. 

“God, Raymond.” She mewled, running her hands up and down his broad chest, taking comfort in his solidity.

Raymond growled in pleasure when he felt her arousal wetting through his trousers. The sweet scent of sex clung to the air, spurring him on.

Red could not recall being so invested in a dry hump since he had been a horny teen. He grinned at the ridiculous thought, thinking the younger version of himself would be appalled to know he’d bypassed a wet and wanting woman’s plea to be fucked for the sake of dating.

Rosalie’s gasps sped up, tearing all other thought from Red’s mind. 

She was getting close, her desperate need finally being tended to.

Without warning, Raymond pushed up off the bed, removing himself entirely from her writhing body.

“ _No_ ” whined Rosalie, her body crying out for the stimulation it had lost.

His eyes bored into hers as he lifted a familiar looking item from the foot of the bed, dropping it gently in Rosalie’s lap. 

It was her towel from their morning altercation in the shower.

Raymond leaned into her sweet, shocked face. 

“You are a formidable little hellion,” he told her fondly, “A merciless, incredible tease. But…” 

His voice was reverent as he eyed her body openly. “Turnabout is fair play, my dear.” 

Red reached a hand down to thumb the tight nipple straining against the silk of her night gown, making Rosalie hiss in pleasure. 

“I’m out of reasons to behave, Rosalie.” He growled heatedly, watching his thumb pluck at the little nub. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the predicament.”

Rosalie purred her delight at his words, arching wantonly into his touch. 

Red continued, “I’m going to take you, charm you, seduce you as I see fit. I’m going to do so until there is no question in your mind that I am the man you want. Agreed?” 

“Yes” she mewled, her body bowing toward him, willing him to tease her more.

“Eight O’Clock tomorrow, pet.” He murmured gently, reaching to stroke her cheek. 

“It’s a date.”

He turned and strode out of the room without another word, leaving Rosalie panting and utterly shell-shocked in his wake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: Lover Boy
> 
> When she descended the stairs, it was not to the playful, facetious Raymond Reddington that always accompanied their late night shenanigans.
> 
> This man was someone else entirely.
> 
> He looked at her with a new emotion, something honest and impassioned.
> 
> They had lowered the barriers separating them, opening the door to the possibility of what they could be, together.


	15. Lover Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: For Once in My Life - by Stevie Wonder & Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen
> 
> A/N: I am moving unexpectedly so please bear with me! Chapters are taking longer than expected ☹️

_Stratos’s Apartment, Siena - July 3rd, 1999_

 

Rosalie Øllegaard was in a terribly good mood, all things considered. 

The woman sauntered down the hall of the Siena flat humming softly to herself and thinking about the excitement of the previous day.

She could feel the smooth silk of her short nightgown swish back and forth across her bare skin, bringing her mind back to one exciting event in particular.

Raymond Reddington had snuck into her room, teased her into a frenzy,  and robbed her not only of speech, but of her panties.

If she focused, Rosalie could still recall the feel of his heavy shaft rocking against her sensitive flesh without mercy, driving her right to the edge.

God was _that_ a thrilling and excruciating interlude _._

Rosalie had tossed and turned for hours afterward, trying to key down her roaring libido. She finally succumbed to her need in the early morning light, rocking against her trembling fingers until she was gasping and writhing beneath the sheets, her mind firmly fixed on the man down the hall.

The young innkeeper grinned at the thought of her wanton behavior, a small giggle escaping her chest without warning. She planned to regale her early morning activities to Red as soon as possible, looking forward to the predatory look which would darken his handsome features.

No, her cheery demeanor had nothing to do with her upcoming date with Raymond Reddington, nor his late night panty raid…or at least, that’s what she told herself.

Thankfully, Rosalie reached her bedroom without encountering anyone. The house was quiet. The late-night festivities had left many of their household sleeping in, which suited her just fine.

She strode casually into her bedroom, hanging her towel on the hook before wandering about the room to begin packing some of her things. They would be leaving Siena the following day for Greece, as Stratos had business which needed Raymond’s attention. 

Rosalie was pleased at this, for she very much liked the debonaire Greek and his boyish charm. He was endlessly polite and terribly funny, a true joy to be around. 

More than anything, however, she loved seeing the obvious friendship between Stratos and Raymond. 

They were quite the sight, chortling and swaggering about like a pair of bantam cocks in a hen yard. The women wandering about Siena certainly took notice, giggling and whispering behind their fans to each other as the men dealt, bet, and bribed the week away. 

Rosalie couldn’t blame them. 

The men were certainly handsome, not to mention their old fashioned charm. Their gate and stature held an aura of power and masculinity which beckoned the attention of every female in a few block’s radius. Rosalie had pointed this out one afternoon, laughing merrily as Stratos preened under the comment.

There were endless stories being bandied about between the two.  Most were meant to tease or embarrass each other for the group’s enjoyment, however, some were truly wild and enthralling.  Rosalie had listened to each and every one, giggling at their shenanigans and commiserating with their foibles.

Another giggle escaped her as she pulled out her overnight bag and set it on the bed. From the corner of her eye, Rosalie noticed something out of place.

A white card lay propped up on the bed, plain and unassuming. 

The woman plucked it from the coverlet with a wide grin.

Written in a familiar, neat script, was a note from Raymond.

_Third Bay, Fifth Shelf, White Bow._

_-R_

Rosalie sighed excitedly, the message sending her scurrying for the lounge.

Raymond’s deep, soothing drawl could be heard within, making the little woman’s stomach flip as she silently turned the handle. 

The quiet room was glowing pink in the morning sun, casting a rosy light over its sole occupant.

Red sat behind the large desk, talking with an associate, pinching the bridge of his nose. His shoulders were tense and his usually warm voice had become clipped and sharp.

A rueful smile twitched at Rosalie’s lips. He looked awfully surly. 

An overwhelming playfulness came over her, determined to give the man something to smile about.

She strode casually toward the third bay of books, garnering his undivided attention. 

Raymond eyed the scantily-clad form as she sauntered along without a care in the world, his voice dropping lower of its own accord while he watched her hips sway this way and that. 

She was in the same negligee as the night before, and from the looks of it, hadn’t sought out any lingerie after he had unceremoniously stolen hers. The knowledge made his cock twitch.

Rosalie stopped in front of the requisite bay of books and cast her eyes upward. There, on the fifth shelf, was a thick tome with a white ribbon tied in a neat bow.

She reached up onto her tiptoes, wiggling slightly as she tried to reach the book. 

Raymond couldn’t help the small smile playing on his lips. 

“No, go ahead, I’m listening,” he lied to the man on the other line. Red was far too preoccupied with the hem of the negligee inching its way north, ready to give him a long-awaited peak at the prize beneath.

Having a good idea where his eyes were, Rosalie spread her legs minutely, enjoying the hell out of the sharp inhale which issued from behind her. 

‘ _Damnable little minx,_ ’ he thought. He longed for a glimpse of the little pink treasure residing just out of view. Tilting his head to the side, Red leaned till he was all but lying his head on the desk, mentally willing the garment to move just a fraction of an inch higher. 

Rosalie let out an amused scoff as she realized there was no way she could reach the book. She danced about on the tips of her toes, attempting to gain purchase on the elusive item, blissfully unaware she was driving a certain fugitive out of his mind.

Taking pity on her fruitless pursuits and his throbbing erection, Raymond stood, leaving the phone face up on the desk. His associate continued to blather on about some nonsense issue in Singapore while Red’s attention shifted to more exciting possibilities.

“May I assist?” He rumbled, appearing behind her and catching her off guard. 

Rosalie leapt away from the shelf, bouncing off his solid chest. “Oh, um, yes. Please.” She added, her expression sheepish.

Rather than reaching up for the book, the man bent down and wrapped his arms about her thighs. Rosalie squealed her surprise when he lifted her skyward.

Her hands dropped to his broad shoulders, stabilizing herself with his solid frame.

Raymond smiled up at her, enjoying the feel of the soft, warm bundle in his arms. 

Rosalie looked down, pleased to find him in a better mood. Forgetting her task for the moment, she bent and placed her lips to his. Her nimble fingers stroked through his hair, sending goosebumps along his neck.

Raymond responded in kind, deepening the kiss and sucking her bottom lip between his teeth.

The action pulled a tremulous noise from his captive, her hands moving to run up and down his back and shoulders.

Red hummed his contentment, swiping her kiss-swollen lips with his tongue. 

Rosalie opened to him, moaning when the muscle danced playfully with hers.

“Red?” A voice could be heard calling quietly from the phone. 

“He’s busy.” The woman sighed against his mouth wrapping her legs possessively about the man’s waist.

Red chuckled darkly and pressed her into the bookshelf. His mouth continued to explore hers, enjoying each little mew and sigh he garnered along the way.

“I take it you found my note?” He questioned heatedly, carrying his lips down her neck. 

“Y-yes,” she stammered as his tongue flicked languidly back and forth over the spot where her neck and shoulder met. 

“ _Raymond…_ ” He had found a sweet spot, and the woman positively squirmed in praise of his discovery.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” His sharp teeth nipped the same spot as a cascade of goosebumps rippled along her skin. 

“ _Yes_ ” She hissed her pleasure as his warm hands gripped the backs of her thighs. The tips of his fingers were so close to her sex, it made the wet little alcove throb painfully. 

“You’re burning up, little dove.” Red purred knowingly, his fingers digging into the giving flesh of her bare backside.

He was trying like hell to hold himself in check, but her body was calling his name. He could feel the heat rolling off her, and the knowledge her panties were tucked safely in his jacket pocket only added to his delirious desire.

“...Ray?” came the voice from the phone.

“Duty calls,” pouted the woman, her tongue still rolling sensually against his.

“It can damn well wait.” Insisted Raymond, fully intent on the task at hand. He deepened the kiss, groaning his pleasure when Rosalie nipped him in response.

Her little hands stroked his neck, helping them both to cool their ardour. Slowly, they shifted to a softer, gentler exploration.

Rosalie’s nose nudged Raymond’s chin, exposing his jaw and throat to her affection. She peppered the stubble with soft kisses, humming her contentment as she did so.

The affectionate gesture soothed him further, quieting the roar of his arousal to a soft purr. 

Red realized as a book shifted behind her, he was rapidly developing a habit of pinning the woman to any and all available surfaces. The thought made him laugh, the warm sound vibrating against Rosalie’s lips pleasantly.

“What, pray tell, has you so amused?” She asked, reaching a hand up to card lazily through his hair.

“I seem to have developed a fondness for backing you into hard objects and ravishing you against them.” He noted, shifting more of her weight to his arms. “Are you uncomfortable?”

Rosalie snorted her amusement. “I am perfectly fine, and as a matter of record, I very much _like_ being stuck between you and any available hard place.”

“Is that so?” He barely held his intrigue, eyeing her rosy lips and pleasantly disheveled curls with a serious facade. “I didn’t realize you enjoyed such antics.”

Her long lashes batted coyly up at him. “If you stop pinning me to things, Raymond Reddington, I’ll be terribly cross with you.”

Red chuckled, brushing his nose against hers. “Duly noted, little dove. We’re still on for tonight?”

The dark grey eyes sparked with excitement. “I’ll be there with bells on.” 

She reached for the book with the bow above her head, pulling it out gingerly. 

“ _And_ a wealth of knowledge about...” she glanced at the cover, “...ranunculus?” Her amusement grew by leaps and bounds.

The quip made Raymond laugh, a deep, sultry sound that rumbled joyously against the young innkeeper’s skin.

“Your wit is dazzling, but I have to see to a bit of business today.” He grumbled, turning and shifting her carefully back to the floor.

“Something thrilling, no doubt, judging by your phone call.” She teased, gesturing at the phone still lying on his desk.

The associate still hadn’t given up, echoing Reddington’s name again as both fugitives sniggered.

Rosalie slid down Red’s tall frame, her night dress riding up ever so slightly.

Raymond made the mistake of looking up into the mirror hanging on the wall behind them, catching an unadulterated peek at one firm, rounded cheek of her backside. The sight made him ache all over again. He silently cursed his lot in life as he stared dazedly at the expanse of pristine, soft skin. 

_Damn it all to hell._

Raymond could feel his traitorous body responding all too readily to the view.

Another giggle escaped Rosalie as she attempted to shift her attire. She moved to shoo Red’s hand away, but he dodged her expertly, his large palm sneaking past to cup the exposed mound.

Rosalie arched into his grip, a soft groan issuing from her throat.

The man grunted his desire, watching his masculine fingers curl into the delectable curve, gripping it possessively.

“I can’t take much more of this.” He vowed, eyes never leaving the exquisite view in the mirror. He kneaded the supple curve once more before reluctantly shifting the hem of her negligee back down and kissing her temple.

“I’m picking you up at seven.” He decided.

“How about six?” Rosalie joked, hoisting her book more securely in her arms.

“Perfect.” Red responded casually, smirking at the surprised look on her face. “It will make the tedium of today go by so much faster.”

Rosalie beamed at him, reaching on her tiptoes to kiss him softly. “It’s a date.” She sighed.

“Go, read your book, have some coffee and relax today.” He advised, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. 

Rosalie’s eyes softened as she looked at him, his suggestion sounding delightful. “I’ll bring you a cup.” She offered, heading for the door.

Red nodded his thanks and picked up the burner phone with a sigh. “Sorry Max, dozed off for a moment. You were saying?”

Rosalie stifled a laugh as she stepped out into the hall, catching part of his poor cover story. 

She set about returning to her room, intent on getting ready for the day. She admired the book’s cover while she walked. It held illustrations of several flowers including bluebell, lilac, and tulips.

The young woman broke out into another grin as she tugged on the bow, eager to see why Raymond had lead her to this particular text.

Rosalie padded into the room, nose in her book, heading for her wardrobe; the woman had just stepped over the threshold when something caught her attention. 

She took one step backward out of the closet to see a large assortment of flowers in a tall vase waiting on the dressing table.

The sight elicited a delighted gasp from Rosalie, who wasted no time in crossing the room to examine the beautiful array.

It was truly a gorgeous arrangement, brimming with black-eyed white anemone, lush silverston roses, and palest blush ranunculus. The flowers were magnificent, creating a unique and fragrant bouquet unlike anything Rosalie had received before.

The book Raymond had given her suddenly made much more sense.

It was an encyclopedia of sorts, showing illustrations of hundreds of flowers, various information about the genus, its uses, and the meaning behind each bloom.

Another white card was tucked in the page titled, ‘Anemone.’

_My Dear Rosalie,_

_A little token to entertain you in my absence._

_Looking forward to tonight,_

_-R_

The note made Rosalie’s entire body flush and her insides squirm excitedly.

Before she could settle into her intriguing task, Rosalie dressed and went to grab a large cup of coffee per Raymond’s suggestion.

Horace and Dembe were already eating breakfast in the kitchen. Both men grinned knowingly at the chipper woman when she appeared.

“Good morning, boys.” She practically sang, pinching Horace’s side and giving Dembe a playful peck on the cheek.

“What have I said about trying to corrupt Dembe?” A deep voice accused from the doorway. 

Rosalie squeaked, turning and beaming at Raymond, who practically prowled into the kitchen. She pulled out another cup and poured him some coffee, holding it out with a smile. “Long time no see.” She crooned.

He took the cup gratefully, taking a long sip of the hot liquid as he flashed her a wink.

Rosalie glanced surreptitiously up at him. “I forgot to say so earlier, because, well…”

“My tongue was in your mouth?” Red supplied in a low purr, cocking his head confidently. He had rather enjoyed their rambunctious interlude against the bookcase.

Horace looked up, utterly appalled, as Dembe’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Rosalie blushed scarlet and nodded, her dark eyes dancing with mirth. “I wanted to say thank you for the book, and the flowers, they’re absolutely exquisite.”

Raymond’s lips twitched into a warm smile as he wrapped himself around her feminine frame. “I’m glad they’re to your liking. I trust you’ve unearthed the purpose of the book?”

“I have, you clever man. You certainly know how to keep a girl occupied.”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.” He laughed, thoroughly enjoying the double entendre. His eyes flitted up to meet the dark, chastising orbs of Rosalie’s guard. “Give her enough books to build a castle.” Raymond lied smoothly, his eyebrows quirking upward as he gave the man an innocent nod.

While still very much in the guard’s line of view, Red met Rosalie’s gaze and mouthed emphatically, ‘ _Not at all what I meant.’_

The innkeeper covered her mouth, trying desperately to smother her laughter.

“You’ll have to tell me what you’ve learned tonight.” He continued, enjoying her amusement.

“Is there going to be a quiz?” Rosalie quipped, tentatively nuzzling his jaw, unsure how he would feel about showing such affection in front of the boys.

Sensing her train of thought, Raymond leaned forward, encouraging such familiarity. “Multiple choice-” his breath hitched as she placed her lips to his pulse point, “and a few essay questions.”

Horace mimed vomiting into his bowl, earning a scowl from his charge.

Waylaying the upcoming battle, Red refilled Rosalie’s cup and nudged it toward her. 

“Read your book and relax today.” He reminded, “I’ll be here at 6 to pick you up.”

“Is this your way of telling me to behave?” She teased with an impish eyebrow raise.

Red grinned, kissing her once more before shooing her back toward her coffee. “Ready, Dembe?”

The young man turned and nodded, ruffling Rosalie’s curls before striding after him.

The innkeeper quickly snatched her coffee and headed for her room.

“Rosie,” began Horace, feeling he should talk with her about Reddington.

“ _No_ ” She responded merrily, pattering out of the kitchen.

“No?” Horace called after her, leaning back in his chair.

“No.” She agreed, “I have a puzzle to solve, you have bacon to eat. We’ll talk on the way to Jacopo’s for lunch.” Her voice echoed down the long hallway before the man heard the snap of her door closing.

The bodyguard shook his head, laughing reluctantly. The little hellcat was on a mission, and she’d be damned if he got in her way.

In the quiet of her room, Rosalie finished the last of her packing, leaving out clothes for the following day, any necessities, and most importantly, her dress for that night. The opaque garment bag hung over the door to the wardrobe, waiting patiently.

A knock sounded on the door, followed by Stratos’ voice. “May I come in?”

The woman answered in the affirmative, as the older man strode casually into the room. “Good morning, Stratos,” she smiled warmly, “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you.” His boyish gaze turned to the bouquet on the dressing table, “I see Red has taken to the task of pursuing you with gusto.” 

Rosalie blushed, carefully bringing the large arrangement  to the console table at the end of the bed. “He has, he’s been very thoughtful.”

Stratos beamed at the blooms, reaching out to cup one of the pale purple roses. “Red always has been a hopeless romantic.” He chuckled roguishly, “I was sad to hear you two won’t be joining us for dinner in Onda tonight; but upon hearing the reason why, I was terribly pleased.”  
The young woman tittered nervously, “Yes, we have a bit of a prior engagement.”

The statement made Stratos laugh heartily. “From what I’ve heard, it's been a long time coming.”

“My goodness, do Dembe and Horace do anything but gossip like little hens while Raymond and I are distracted?” She asked, garnering another laugh from him.

“No, and you two have been very...distracted while you’ve been here.” teased Stratos, “I have learned a great many things.”

Rosalie shook her head for his amusement.

“I am glad you two are pursuing a bit of romance.” The man murmured thoughtfully, still eyeing the flowers. “I’ve known Red for quite some time, but I have yet to see him have this simple joy others are so easily afforded.”

Rosalie’s eyes softened at the statement, unable to school her expression any longer. “I’m terribly nervous.” She confided in a quiet voice.

Stratos dropped his hand to his pocket, grinning broadly at her expression. “Raymond loves puzzles. Intricacies and duality are endlessly appealing to him, as they are part of him. This comes out in spades when he is showing affection for someone. He will learn you. Will know your every want, what it takes to win your heart, to earn your trust. From what I understand, you are cut from the same cloth.”

“Oh?” she asked, not sure what he meant. 

“Dembe has intimated you have the same proclivity for knowing the man’s wants before he gives them voice.” 

A pleased smile broke across Rosalie’s face, confirming the tale told by Red’s bodyguard. 

Stratos’s eyes softened at her reaction, finding it quite endearing. “I thought so. You have nothing to worry about piccola, you will be in the best of hands. If anyone is worthy of such a lover, it’s Reddington.”

Rosalie’s cheeks flushed a vibrant pink as she took in his words.

“Now, being my clever self, I have unearthed where Red is taking you.” Chortled Stratos in a conspiratorial tone, “Do you have a gown?”

Rosalie nodded with a small laugh, striding over to the wardrobe and unzipping the garment bag, nervously awaiting the man’s verdict.

Stratos loped gracefully over with a look of boyish delight. He reached out a hand to touch the smooth silk, a deep chuckle building in his chest. “Oh, piccola,” he sighed, reaching an arm around Rosalie’s shoulders, “Try not to kill him, will you? I very much enjoy working with the man.”

Rosalie’s eyes widened fretfully, but Stratos reassured her, “I only jest, it is perfect for tonight.” 

He zipped the bag closed, still chortling to himself. Raymond would certainly have his work cut out for him with the young woman. Stratos wasn’t sure she even realized how much the beautiful gown was going to torment him. 

Stratos stood clapping his hands together once before patting Rosalie’s cheek fondly. “I must go assist Red with a bit of business, I’ll ensure he’s back in time for your date.”

Rosalie nodded and thanked him as he strode from the room, leaving her to relax in peace.

Finally, she was able to pull out the book Raymond had given her.

Climbing onto her bed, she took a sip of her coffee before setting the book into her lap and opening it. She turned to the section on anemone, the crisp page showed the flower in a variety of its colors. The ones in the arrangement were alabaster white except for the dark bluish black of its stamen. 

According to the book, anemone was symbolic of anticipation, the excitement of what was to come.

The passage made Rosalie smile broadly. 

There certainly was a great deal of anticipation for tonight. She was practically vibrating with impatience, willing the clock to move faster.

Rosalie allowed the tip of her finger to trace the illustration in the book before reaching up and touching the real thing. The petals were silky soft and curled ever so slightly upward like little teacups.

Excited to see what other meaning lay within the beautiful bouquet, Rosalie selected another flower at random.

Tucked prominently in the lush bundle were several tea roses Rosalie recognized as Silverstons. Silverston roses were of a pale purple color with a unique silvery hue. 

Having grown roses at Break Maiden, Rosalie knew these were incredibly difficult to find. She couldn’t help but wonder why Raymond went through all of the trouble of getting them.

Her curiosity roaring to the fore, she turned to the section on roses. 

Roses were a classic symbol of love, but there were very different meanings ascribed to each color. White meant innocence, while red meant love and desire. Rosalie thumbed through the colors, finally locating purple. 

Purple roses were a symbol of enchantment, of love at first sight. 

Rosalie’s heart squeezed at the thought.

She had known Raymond was an old fashioned romantic, it was evident in the way he carried himself and how he interacted with women. What she hadn’t known was there was a huge difference between observing those behaviors and being on the receiving end of them. 

Raymond had taken something as common as flowers before a first date and elevated the whole tradition by choosing blooms that not only looked stunning together, but also had a wealth of meaning laced into them. She was overwhelmed and delighted by the level of intricate detail the man had put into the simple gesture.

She found the symbology of the remaining flowers and greenery without much ado, and by the time she had reached the last one, her eyes were shining with emotion.

She now had a better understanding of why he had been so adamant on dating her. This was who he was, at his very foundations. Raymond was kind, chivalrous, affectionate, and thoughtful. He had been so deliberate on which flowers were in the bouquet and had led her to a book on their meanings so his intentions with her were very clear. 

He didn’t just want to bed her. He wanted a relationship, in every sense of the word.

He was willing to wait until the moment was right for them, and not one second earlier. He could see their relationship being so much more than just physical desire, and he wanted Rosalie to understand his intent before tonight. 

 _Raymond Reddington wanted to woo her_ , she realized with a grin. 

The young woman leaned back into the pillows, gazing in misty affection at the blooms. It was a stunning arrangement, and Raymond had put so much thought and romance into the gesture, it made her heart thrum with appreciation.

She turned and snagged her satellite phone, dialing the familiar number.

Dembe’s calm voice echoed over the connection. “Rosalie.”

“Dembe, is he already in the meeting?” She asked, nibbling her bottom lip.

“No, we just arrived.” He held the phone out to Raymond, “Your lady calls.” 

His tone was teasing, but the young man immediately stepped out of the vehicle, giving them a moment’s privacy.

“The florist didn’t sneak anything crude in there like carnations, I hope.” The rumbling voice carried through the line, garnering a tinkling laugh from the other end.

“No, no carnations.  I just wanted to say thank you again.” Her voice was soft and warm, “The flowers are just lovely, and so incredibly thoughtful, and...”

He could hear her fidgeting on the other end. 

“And...I just cannot wait for tonight.”

The man beamed triumphantly. He had indeed been quite persnickety about the flowers in the arrangement, seeking to tell her of his intentions and his excitement in his own way. The florist had been rather irritated with him by the end of it, truth be told. Raymond had a sneaking suspicion the man didn’t get many three a.m. calls demanding silverston roses and silver brunia. 

He had still gotten the rare blooms, calling in a favor to an associate from Warsaw. He was terribly pleased she was so appreciative of the gesture as a whole.

“Shall we move it up to five?” He quipped, delighted to hear that tinkling laugh again.

“Yes, please.” She sighed, wanting the day to fly by.

Raymond perked up at her immediate agreement, for he hadn’t expected it. A fond smile lit his features as he realized he’d been waiting for a partner like this for some time. Someone who didn’t question or manipulate their emotions and just voiced what they felt. Someone who was open with their affection and their desire.

His deep chuckle resonated through the connection, making Rosalie bite her lip and grin at the ceiling.

“We’ve waited long enough, haven’t we?” He crooned softly.

“Too long.” Rosalie agreed, enjoying the mental picture of Raymond in the sleek black sedan, murmuring intimately into the phone.

Dembe knocked twice on the window, alerting him to the arrival of the other party.

“I’ll let you get to your meeting.” smiled Rosalie, hearing the telltale noise. “Good luck.”

“Until tonight, my dear.”

The connection ended and Raymond peered thoughtfully down at the phone.

It had felt so delightfully normal, so incredibly ordinary.

Sending her flowers, kissing her that morning, her calling simply to be sweet and to wish him luck, it made Red’s insides squirm pleasantly.

The man wondered if this was what other people experienced on a day to day basis. Having someone of his own was quite nice. 

Like the early days of their partnership, Raymond was marveling at how easily he could get used to having Rosalie with him in such a capacity.

Stepping out of the car, he handed the phone back to Dembe. “Would you mind being our detail for tonight? She’s much more comfortable when it’s just the three of us.”

The younger man grinned at him. “Not at all, my friend.”

**********************************************************************************************************************************************

_Stratos’s Apartment, Siena - Early Evening_

 

“Where’s Rosalie?” Raymond asked, removing his hat and stepping into the cool kitchen.

Horace’s dark eyes glanced up momentarily before returning to his book. “Upstairs getting ready, we got back from Jacopo’s an hour or two ago.”

“Anything eventful to report?”

Man’s tanned face crinkled in amusement. “Not unless you want me to spoil the surprise of her attire tonight, which Rosalie has assured me she will have my left bollock for if I do.” He continued, “She and Marquesa were making a few last minute alterations.”

Raymond winced. “Is Marquesa the one I have to thank for that damn romper?”

Horace let out a barking laugh. “She certainly had a hand in it.”

“My God, I’m going to come back from this date a broken man, aren’t I?” Red asked, the joyful tone in his voice incredibly amusing.

The bodyguard looked up at him, his jaw tight and his lips pursed. “Rosalie… Well, she certainly doesn’t do anything halfway.” He bit back a grin, patting the man on the shoulder before heading to check on his charge. 

“She says go with the taupe suit, by the way.”

Red nodded, pouring himself a drink before heading upstairs, his heart pounding like a freight train within his chest. He pulled the light suit from the closet, laying it out on the bed before heading for the master bath.

Once he was showered and his libido had keyed down, the man set about getting dressed for their date. As he donned a fresh shirt, he settled into a more purposeful mood. 

He and the little blonde down the hall had come a long way to get to this point. It was the culmination of a long year’s worth of fighting what now seemed inevitable. She was his, and he was going to prove it tonight. 

Raymond had strode confidently over the lines they had drawn, intent on wooing the woman in every sense of the word. 

He would become her lover, but his ambitions didn't stop there. 

Red wanted to be her closest friend and confidant. 

He wanted to convince Rosalie she was safe with him. 

He wanted to show her the man he held carefully guarded within, for her to well and truly know him. 

He wanted her to see the depths of love to which he was capable.

It was a different Raymond Reddington who donned the suit tonight, and he was determined to win her love in return.

Down the hall, Rosalie fussed in the mirror once more, not entirely convinced of her attire. The dress she chose was daring, even with the modifications. She and Marquesa had shortened the straps to bring the neckline higher, and lowered the split in the leg so her entire hip wasn’t on display. She thought the garment fit her very well, she just hoped the fugitive down the hall would like it too. 

With a nervous sigh, she grabbed her clutch and headed for the door. 

Horace was stood in the doorway, chortling at her fussing about like a hen.

“Oh, shut up.” She growled, second guessing the dress all over again. “I’ve just realized in the past ten minutes, I haven’t been on a date in a few years.”

“How the hell did you go without a date for several years?”

“It wasn’t _several_ ,” Rosalie snipped her pique, “and I was rather busy, mind, building my network and making sure I didn’t _die_.”

Horace shook his head ruefully, “Imagine, forgoing sex for the sake of business.”

“I never said-” Rosalie halted her statement, catching herself before she said something too revealing.

Too late.

“ _Really_?” her guard practically howled, his surprise evident. “Florian Armel’s sainted pride and joy, a wicked little rapscallion like the rest of us?”

The ridiculous statement made Rosalie burst out laughing.

“You know what? I’m rather proud.” Confessed Horace, “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Rosalie scowled at this, “What on earth gave you the impression I was such a prude?”

“I…” The bodyguard looked confusedly at her, “I have no idea.” 

He wrinkled his nose, suddenly looking like someone’s old babushka. “Oh saints alive, is this where I find out you’re some kind of insatiable she-devil? If I find you and Reddington in every available corner-”

The young woman scoffed indelicately, applying a quick swipe of mascara in the mirror. “There are much more exciting ways to find out I’m an insatiable she-devil. All of which can be avoided by you learning to _knock_.” 

Horace grinned wolfishly, “Just try not to give the old man a heart attack, ok Rosie?”

Her eyes narrowed moodily at him, “He’s not old, and I’m not trying to kill him. _Why_ does everyone keep saying that?”

“Could’ve fooled me,” quipped the bodyguard, ignoring the rhetorical question. “With that dress, I could see this evening going either way.”

Rosalie looked nervously down at her attire. “Oh no... It’s not too much, is it?”  She fidgeted about, turning this way and that in the mirror, eyeing her reflection critically.

“The dress is perfect.” Soothed Horace, patting her shoulder fondly. He stood beside her, catching her dark eyes in the mirror with his obsidian ones. 

“It takes a very particular woman to stand toe to toe with Reddington. The woman wearing this dress? She is the only woman I would believe capable of walking at his side without living in his shadow. It’s perfect Rosie.”

The young innkeeper rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes misting slightly. “I just want tonight to go well.” She confided, her nerves getting the better of her.

Horace nodded knowingly, “It’s going to be fine, this is just like those late night excursions you’ve been engaging in for the past year. The only difference being, this time you _know_ you’re dating.”

The woman laughed at the little jab, patting Horace’s cheek in thanks. He was right, she was being ridiculous.

Rosalie’s nerves didn’t return until it was time to meet Raymond. She strode through the hall toward the staircase, her heart hammering in her chest.

When she descended the stairs into the foyer, it was not to the playful, facetious Raymond Reddington who always accompanied their late-night shenanigans.

This man was someone else entirely.

He looked at her with a new emotion, something honest and impassioned.

They had lowered the barriers separating them, opening the door to the possibility of what they could be, together.

It was a new beginning, frightening and thrilling at the same time.

Raymond understood what Horace had meant the moment Rosalie stepped out onto the top of the stairs.

His gaze travelled hungrily up her form, utterly shell shocked at her beauty.

The dress was a magnificent creation, perfect for an evening out on a warm, Italian summer night. It had a clean, simple cut with no beading or embellishments. A small v neckline cradled her ample breasts while thin, crossing straps left her delicate shoulders on full display. 

What truly floored Red was the color. The silky material shone softly, like liquid metal. 

It was as if someone had poured rose gold over her form, following the nip of her waist into the full curve of her hips in one uninterrupted river of glimmering fabric. A generous gap parted on one side, allowing a tiny glimpse of her beautiful legs with every step.

The overall effect was positively stunning. 

“ _Exquisite_.” Raymond breathed, watching her saunter gracefully toward him, a warm smile playing at her lips.

“Too much for a first date?” She asked, dropping her eyes to the garment.

“No.” Red assured her, reaching out and pulling her close. A low, rumbling growl snuck out of his throat as he ran the backs of his fingers up and down her waist. 

Raymond’s adam’s apple bobbed as he caught the outline of a tight little nipple perking up against the fabric. His mouth watered at the sight and his thumb immediately sought out the stiff peak, brushing it this way and that. 

Rosalie gasped softly, pressing into his outstretched hand 

“You’re going to torment me all night, aren’t you?” He asked with a grin. 

He couldn’t imagine a sweeter form of torture.

“Just a little.” Sighed Rosalie, her tone playful as she arched closer to his skillful hands.

************************************************************************************************************************************************************

The drive took only a few minutes, the airstrip they had arrived on earlier that week materializing around them.

“We’re taking the jet?” asked Rosalie, her surprise evident.

Raymond cocked his head, smiling serenely at the bird. “We are. I don’t know about you, but I have no interest in Jacopo, Stratos, or any other residents of Siena joining us tonight.” The green eyes shifted to her, glinting in amused sincerity.

The young woman flushed with pleasure. She had truthfully been worried about such an occurrence, and had hoped Raymond would pick somewhere out of the way, but this…this was unprecedented. The effort he was putting forth to ensure their date was perfect was so overwhelming it made her tummy flutter. 

Rosalie’s lips broke into a bright smile, “My, my, you’ve thought of everything haven’t you?”

The man beside her let out a sensual chuckle. “I told you last night, I have been looking forward to this for quite some time.”

The simple comment made Rosalie’s stomach backflip all over again as Red stepped casually from the car.

He came around to her door, opening it in a gentlemanly fashion before holding a hand out to her.

The deep grey eyes moved up his arm, her hand reaching out to grasp the offered support.

The action warmed Raymond from the inside out, urging him to pull her close once she exited the vehicle. “I adore you.” He crooned, nuzzling her cheek in open affection while his strong arms snaked around her curvaceous frame.

Rosalie giggled, kissing his cheek gently before looping her arm through his. “The feeling is very much mutual, darling.”

The pair moved around the car and headed toward the plane.

Dembe was quietly grinning at his shoes, attempting to give them some semblance of privacy. 

Rosalie reached out and threaded her other arm through his. “Come along, sweetheart, you have the unfortunate job of being our third wheel again.” Her tone was teasing, and she was glad to see the young bodyguard fall into step with them, laughing softly at her joke.

“I’m happy to assist, but if you start making moon eyes at each other I’m leaving you for the cockpit.”

“Too late.” Rosalie grinned slyly at the younger man before batting her long lashes at Raymond.

Red simply chuckled, reaching out to thumb the woman’s chin.

They ascended the short set of stairs into the jet, laughing merrily. Raymond became distracted halfway up, finally laying eyes on the back of the woman’s dress. 

The thin straps coming down from her shoulders crossed once before attaching at the waist, leaving the delectable majority of her sunkissed back bared to his gaze.

Dembe prodded his backside impishly, fully aware of what had drawn the man’s attention. 

Red shrugged, he certainly couldn’t be blamed for his pause, the view was unbelievable.

Dembe closed the jet’s door before heading quickly for the safety of the cockpit. His knowing eyes flitted softly up to the amorous couple, finding them completely focused on each other as he sequestered himself with the pilot.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I adore Dembe?” Rosalie sighed, glancing about the empty cabin.

Raymond let out a barking laugh. “Perhaps you’d rather he be your date?” The man feigned a pout, determined to turn her attention away from his young, strapping bodyguard.

Rosalie’s slender arms snuck around his torso to stroke up and down his back. 

“No.” She murmured, her voice dropping to a sultry little purr. “I’ve been waiting for the man in the hat, and no other will do.”

The assurance brought a sly smile to Red’s lips, made all the more broad by a pair of feminine eyebrows waggling playfully at him.

“That’s better,” he rumbled, cupping her cheek. His lips met hers, caressing her slowly as he held the woman close.

Rosalie responded in kind, matching his languid strokes and sinking into the warmth of his embrace.

Raymond moaned into her mouth as his hands ran up her back, stroking the expanse of satin skin. He had longed to touch her like this, ached to feel her soft, feminine form beneath his roughened palms.

The soft touches sent shivers along Rosalie’s body, coaxing her deeper into his hold. A needy little mew hummed against his lips as her hands wriggled their way beneath his jacket to run over his chest and back.

He felt her smile against his mouth when she bumped his firearm, the action reminding him of something.

“I hesitate to ask where you’ve hidden yours this time.” He growled, running his hands along her torso. Surely, there was nowhere for it to go?

Rosalie but her lip, “I- I don’t have mine tonight, there was no possible way I could hide it under this.” She confessed, adding, “I do have a few knives hidden on me, but I’m trusting you to keep me safe tonight.”

The innocent little statement stroked something primal in Red. He liked the idea of her putting her safety in his hands, very much. The man leaned in and kissed her again, his body humming with masculine pride.

The plane jolted them slightly as it taxied, preparing for takeoff.

Red’s arms tightened around Rosalie’s unsteady form, examining her rosy lips and hazy eyes. 

Reluctantly, they untangled themselves and moved toward their seats.

Rosalie stopped and pulled two glasses from the bar. "Let’s have a drink shall we? I want to hear about your day.”

The simple comment brought a bright smile to Raymond’s features, and with scotch in hand, he regaled her with the events ofhis meeting with Stratos.

The flight was short, only a half hour and they were beginning their descent into wherever Red was taking her.

As they exited the plane for the comfort of the waiting sedan, Rosalie couldn’t figure out where they were. The signs at the little airstrip were all still in Italian, however nothing gave the name of the place.

Raymond caught her looking about and laughed, “All in good time, my dear,” and ushered her into the car.

As Rosalie slid gracefully into her seat, her dress parted to give Red an unfair peek of her thigh, shimmering and silky soft in the evening light.

“Is everything alright, Raymond?” Rosalie questioned innocently, noticing the placement of his eyes and his shortened breathing.

“I’m trying to think of every available reason not to ditch Dembe and run away with you to some hideaway in the cliffs.” He joked in an undertone, closing the car door only to reappear on the other side, pulling the woman across the backseat so she was nestled against his side.

Rosalie laughed when his large hand palmed her hip possessively. “Where’s a blacksite when you need it, hmm?” she purred, leaning to kiss his chin.

The comment made them both laugh. A blacksite would certainly be ideal for what they wanted.

Raymond hummed his enjoyment, pulling her tighter and dipping his lips to meet hers. The soft, warm mouth melded into his instantly, matching his sensual rhythm, coaxing his arousal back to the fore.

They were too busy kissing and nuzzling each other to notice much of the Italian landscape as they were driven toward their destination.

Dembe cleared his throat when the car pulled up to a large stone building perched on a cliff overlooking the sea.

Rosalie giggled, righting Raymond’s attire, as she had at one point been using his tie for leverage.

The man smirked for her good humor, allowing her every whim. When he was once again presentable, he stepped out of the car and held a hand out to his date.

She took it gently, rising out of the car to stand beside him, her features alight with excitement.

The young valets gawped appreciatively at the woman, but Raymond was thrilled to find her eyes were only for him. Even Dembe, whom she adored, got little more than a passing glance as he lead her into the building. 

The restaurant’s owner greeted them at the door, guiding them straight through the building and out onto the back veranda. 

The sight stole the breath from Rosalie’s body.

The veranda showcased an unrivaled view of the sea and the nearby cliffs. The pristine blue waters twinkled in the evening light, and a warm orange glow was cast over the whole scene.

The young woman turned to gape at Raymond, whose eyes were glued to her, taking in every nuance of her expression.

“Raymond, this is magnificent.” She breathed stepping into his arms and kissing him softly.

The man leaned into the affection with a chuckle. “Shall we head to our table?” He asked, shifting to the side so she could see what was behind him.

Rosalie let out a surprised gasp upon seeing the beautiful cliffs, which held a spacious dining room within the natural opening of a large cavern. The room was dotted with small tables covered in pristine white linens. There, tucked in the outer corner of the cliff and away from prying eyes, was an intimate setting overlooking the sea.

“Oh, Raymond.” She cooed, taken aback by the unique and beautiful space.

Red preened at her awed expression, taking her hand and placing it gently in the crook of his arm.

The pair took the stone steps casually, enjoying the trek down to the cliff side. Once they reached the cavern, they were led through the bustling crowd to the private, secluded grotto in which their table had been set.

There on the table was a miniature of the flowers Red had sent her, flanked by two tall candles.

Raymond pulled Rosalie’s chair out for her, ensuring she was comfortably seated before taking his place across from her

“Raymond, this is absolutely stunning.”

He smiled as he settled in and ordered a few bottles of wine. “We’re in Polignano a Mare, a darling little sea-side gem in Southern Italy.” He divulged, looking wistfully out at the view. “This limestone grotto overlooks the Adriatic Sea, and offers some of the most incredible Apulian cuisine you’ll ever find.”

His green eyes shifted to her, the affection bright in their depths. “This is a natural grotto, not man made.” He leaned forward in his seat, taking her hand in his and stroking his thumb lazily back and forth over her fingers. “People have been using it for important events since the early 1700’s. It’s an old, natural wonder, a perfect mix of earth and sea.” He nodded thoughtfully at their joined hands, the sound of the waves crashing in the distance adding to the atmosphere.

“I thought there could be no better place for our first date.”

Rosalie found herself taken aback at the man’s sincerity, the thought and effort he put into this moment. It made her heart ache and swell with affection and appreciation. “You were right, it is absolutely perfect.” She said, squeezing his hand and flashing him a radiant smile.

The pair sat some time later, leisurely swapping stories as was their custom on nights out. 

As their first course was cleared away, Red grinned warmly at his counterpart. “Tell me what you learned today.” He crooned, taking her hand back in his.

Rosalie beamed fondly at him, picking up the miniature of her arrangement and setting it in the center of the table. 

“I learned you are a hopeless romantic,” she teased, earning a sensual chuckle.

“Are you susceptible to romance?” He quipped playfully, thrilling at the blush which stained her cheeks.

“As it turns out I’m terribly susceptible.” She admitted, thinking of how he had played on her heartstrings all day.

Her eyes turned back to the arrangement, her hand reaching up to stroke one of the blooms.

“I learned anemones are associated with anticipation, excitement for things to come. You were telling me how you have been anticipating us dating, looking forward to the potential of a relationship.” 

Red nodded softly in response.

“There were silverston roses, which, apart from being rather rare, are symbolic of love at first sight, of enchantment.” Her dark eyes flitted up to his, “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t enchanted by you the day we met.”

“I share that sentiment,” he agreed, “I didn’t recognize it at first, but once you were in my lap, I quickly realized it would take very little to have me wrapped around your switchblade-happy fingers.” 

The quip had Rosalie issuing that tinkling laugh Raymond enjoyed so much. The sound was so soft and warm, it lit up the room. The man idly realized he often couldn’t help himself when he heard it echoing in the halls of the safe houses, finding himself chuckling along with her. The thought brought a broad grin to his mouth.

Rosalie continued, cradling a pale pink bloom. “These are ranunculus, which symbolize being dazzled by one’s charms. Whether you’re dazzled by mine or you were indicating I would be dazzled by yours, I’m not sure.”

Red sniggered, tilting his head back and forth in a noncommittal way.

“The greenery in the bouquet is eucalyptus, which symbolizes wealth, abundance, and foretelling, and tucked neatly near the edges is valerian, which stands for readiness.”

Heavens knew they were ready. They had wasted so much time fighting the inevitable between them, it felt wonderful to finally pursue their connection. Her thoughts seemed to show in her expression as Raymond grinned knowingly at her.

She continued, “These are silver brunia, which stand for chivalry, and those are oregano flowers, symbolizing substance.” Rosalie looked thoughtfully at him. “You were telling me of your intentions.”

He nodded, pleased at her perceptiveness. “I wanted you to understand before tonight, I can see our relationship being much more than physical attraction. I want to date you because I believe there is something of substance between us. I can see a life with you.” His eyes bore into hers, their openness and frankness breathtaking. 

“I don’t, well, _haven’t_ dated for this very reason. Rare is the woman I could see in such a light.”

The statement gave her chills, the sincerity in his voice robbing her of all thought.

The last flowers in the bunch were white wild roses. The meaning had piqued her curiosity back at the safe house. 

Her slender fingers stroked the white blooms, drawing Red’s attention to them.

“Wild roses mean confidentiality.” Raymond inclined his head toward her. “In the Roman era, the term sub-rosa was used to indicate a meeting being held in confidence. If we are to pursue this, Rosalie, I will keep no part of myself from you, aside from my name.”

Understanding dawned on Rosalie’s face. The side of him she had seen tonight, the openness, the sincerity, he was sharing part of himself which he kept safely hidden from the rest of the world. 

She was meeting the man within.

Her eyes shone in recognition, he was trusting her to hold these moments in confidence, trusting it was enough for her to be the only one allowed to see him in such a light.

Her other hand dropped to hold his, cradling the large appendage in her two small ones. “Raymond, this is truly a gift.” She murmured, bringing his hand up so she could kiss his palm. “One I will not take for granted.”

A tension Red had not known he had been feeling seemed to release from the man’s shoulders. His hand turned to cup her cheek and draw his thumb across the rosy blush. “Will I have the hidden parts of you, as well?” 

He couldn’t help the question, his hopefulness thrumming palpably in the air.

“You and only you will have them.” She agreed, a lone joyful tear clinging to her lashes.

Raymond swiped the drop when it fell. He stood and pulled her close, claiming her lips, sealing the promise. 

The action made Rosalie’s knees feel weak. Her hands gripped his chest for support, touched by the moment and its meaning.

This was the beginning of something incredible.

*************************************************************************************************************************************************

An hour later, the pair were happily ensconced in their own private world, the topic of discussion having turned to the beginnings of their attraction.

“When did you know I was interested?” Rosalie asked, curious to hear his viewpoint.

“Oh, in Munich, what you said to Altan.” Red nodded firmly, recalling the phrase quite clearly.

The woman’s brow furrowed, unable to remember what she had said.

“‘ _I made the bed and beckoned him to it_?’” He quoted, grinning slyly at her.

Rosalie gasped and placed a hand over her mouth, the altercation hurtling back into her mind.

“My God, what a comeback.” Red crooned, dying to know where the spectacular rejoinder came from. Truthfully, he had found her fiery retort utterly charming. It brought about something primal and possessive in the man which, at the time, had taken him completely by surprise.

Rosalie dropped her chin with a grimace. “Sorry about that. I found his attitude incredibly grating.” Her eyes flashed their annoyance as she remembered Altan’s accusations. “I needed to knock him down a few pegs. He just assumed you were bedding me.”

Raymond laughed, “I wholeheartedly agree, my dear. He undermined your hard work and cunning by attributing your success to my libido.” 

He placed a finger under her chin, guiding her gaze upward, the look telling her in no uncertain terms there was no merit to Altan’s words.

“You built an empire so enticing I chased you across an entire continent to get in on it.” He reminded, “Bedding you was not part of my plan.” 

Red made certain she understood his meaning. 

It might not have been part of his plan initially, but it damn well was now. 

He wouldn’t stand for her thinking his actions came from any place other than desire for her. 

The intensity of Red’s gaze made the woman blush furiously, her eyes falling to his chest again. “Still,” she murmured, “I could have demolished his rampant ego without dragging you into the fray.”

Raymond chuckled darkly, “Don’t ever apologize for such a well-aimed barb,” he advised, then added, “I, for one, enjoyed it immensely.”

Rosalie looked up at him, amused. “Oh really?”

His green eyes shone with a powerful mixture of pride and adoration. “It was brilliant. Like a heat-seeking missile, you found the man’s soft underbelly, then blew a magnificent and irreparable hole in it.” Red smiled to himself, replaying the exchange over and over in his mind. 

She had been something, _someone_ else entirely in that moment, and Raymond was one of very few people who could appreciate the duality. 

Rosalie the woman and Rosalie the criminal were two separate personas, yet as much a part of each other as the etchings on a coin. Like him, she had learned to completely and comfortably occupy either side of that coin at a moment’s notice.

Knowing the limits of each side and which to choose in a conflict was one of the keys to their survival. Reddington had found himself inundated with both attraction and intrigue at the quick wit Rosalie had shown.

He sometimes forgot she was still rather new to their world. To see her blushing, unsure of her own prowess was rather endearing, truth be told. He was, however, looking forward to watching her confidence grow, to see more of the formidable hellion he saw that night in Munich. The image was very, very alluring.

The young woman blushed again at his praise and his intense stare. Raymond was a powerful man who dealt with his fair share of vicious and ruthless criminals. He wouldn’t sugarcoat his opinion for anyone, even her.

As their main course was cleared away and the cork popped on another bottle of Masseto, talk turned to their recent adventures in Siena.

“What did that Stefano fellow say to you, after the race?” Red asked, he had meant to question her about the exchange last night, but more enticing opportunities had come up.

Rosalie wrinkled her nose in distaste. “He made a comment about my looks. Said a young little thing like me should be more careful about what men’s toes I step on.” She met Raymond’s gaze, her slate eyes sharp and narrowed. “I didn’t take kindly to it.”

Raymond held his amusement, “I’m dying to know what fiery retort you lobbed his way.”

A reluctant smile plucked at her full lips, “I might have dragged you into it.” She murmured ruefully, unsure how he would respond.

The man let out a barking laugh. “I figured by the way you grabbed my arm,” he noted, “Now I’m doubly interested.”

Rosalie shook her head, unable to meet his eyes. “I threatened to funnel all my assets into ensuring Pantera became the next Nonna. I then proceeded to tell him he should be more careful about the women he threatens. He didn’t have the slightest clue who I was or who I belonged to, and that could end up getting him killed.”

She fidgeted with the napkin in her lap, finally hazarding a glance at her date.

Raymond’s face was warm and, for lack of a better word, delighted. “That’ll teach him.” He quipped, still reeling at her choice of words. ‘ _Who I was or who I belonged to_.’ The phrase excited him immensely.

“Do you, belong to me?” He asked softly, green  eyes watching her features hungrily.

She blinked up at him, blushing and nervous. “I would like to.”

The statement made his heart swell almost painfully. Raymond lifted her hand and placed his lips to its soft surface. “I think it’s time I took you for a spin on the dance floor.”

The woman tittered softly as he stood, keeping her hand in his. She was pulled into his waiting arms and guided smoothly onto the floor as the band tucked back in the cave struck up a slow, swinging ballad.

They danced slowly, swaying gently in each other’s arms. Both couldn’t help but recall the eventful night in New York which had slowly led them here.

They alternated between dancing in comfortable quiet and talking further. Finally, Rosalie remembered her own question about the prior day’s excitement.

“How did you make out at the Palio? Your bribe.” She asked, curiosity evident in her features. 

“I made several bribes.” Evaded Red.

“You know what I mean.” She laughed, “the last minute one you and Dembe were all hush-hush about.”

Raymond nodded, it seemed nothing could be put past her. “You may have noticed the jockey for Pantera walked out with different security than when he walked in?”

Rosalie’s brows knit together. She hadn’t noticed this at all.

He continued, “Those were my associates. I bribed him to take the fall. Pantera had a very good horse and with even a reasonably good jockey were too likely to win. Taking their jockey out of the running early in the race backpedaled their potential significantly.” 

“The contrada was going to kill him for that, why was it so important to take him out?” 

Raymond’s  eyes were warm and honest as he looked down at her. “I connected the outcome of the Palio with the likelihood of you accepting me as a suitor.” He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Rosalie flushed a bright pink, “Could there really have been any doubt in your mind?”

His lips twitched slightly. “I prefer not to put the horse before the cart. There was certainly the potential you didn’t want a relationship.” The notion she might not want him in the same capacity as he wanted her had plagued him all week.

“I would be a terrible fool not to want that.” Rosalie replied, leaning to rest her head on his chest. She felt his lips meet the crown of her head, a soft chuckle vibrating against her ear.

“Thank goodness you’re no fool.” He murmured softly, spinning them again.

A few songs later, and the pair made their way back to their table, intent on dessert. Raymond garnered a chiding laugh from his counterpart as he immediately nabbed her plate, bringing it over to his side and sat with his legs crossed.

“ _I believe you have something of mine_.” She quoted, coming to stand by him, shaking her little gold spoon at him in open chastisement.

Red laughed at the picture, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her into his lap. 

“I thought we might share.” He purred, taking her spoon and setting it on the table.

Rosalie peered at him, surprised when he picked up his spoon, took a swipe of her dessert and held it out to her. She leaned forward hesitantly, wrapping her plump lips about the confection.

Raymond watched avidly as the little pink tongue snuck out to swipe at the sweet cream. The sight was nothing short of sinful, coaxing an aroused grunt from his throat while he watched her swallow.

A pair of molten grey eyes peered heatedly up at him. She reached for her own spoon, gently batting his hand away as he tried to waylay her. She mirrored his actions, taking a spoonful of his chocolate confection and holding it out for him to sample.

The man relaxed into the proceedings, realizing her intent. The robust confection tasted divine, and seemed that much better when offered up by such a mesmerizing creature. 

They took turns holding out morsels for each other to taste. 

Rosalie held out a spoonful of her own treat, silently offering him a bite. 

Red had taken it, humming softly at the delicious taste of cinnamon and pistachios. 

Rosalie had giggled at his small sweet cream mustache, leaning down to kiss the remnant from his lips.

It was an incredibly erotic exchange. By the time they were finished and summarily informed that Dembe was waiting with the car, there was a stifling tension thrumming between the two. Not a crumb remained on their plates, and the last of the wine had been shared between them as they murmured sensually about everything and nothing.

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************

The ride back to the plane was comfortably quiet, an array of silent communication occurring in the backseat.

As the trio quietly made their way into the plane, Raymond silently and stealthily removed his tie. He followed Dembe toward the cockpit, murmuring quietly to both him and Edward before closing the door behind him.

Rosalie noted the lost accessory immediately, a tinkling laugh escaping her lips. “Did you just put your tie on the door knob?”

He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the back of the plane, into the small, secluded office.

“I want no interruptions.” Growled Red, backing her toward the desk and lifting her onto its gleaming surface. His fingertips stroked her thighs and hips appreciatively as he leaned forward to nibble at her neck.

“If you’re looking for another trinket, you’re out of luck.” Rosalie whispered in his ear, garnering his undivided attention.

“I’ve nothing for you tonight.”

 _Jesus wept_. The woman could tempt satan himself and come out holding the keys to the gates of hell. 

Her vital young body thrummed with excitement at his obvious interest, willing him to call her bluff.

“Let me see.” He commanded, his strong hands pressing at her knees.

She opened them slowly, deliberately driving him spare.

“I don’t think you want to tease me with such a thing, Rosalie.” He warned, but she merely laughed.

“Oh, I think I do.” she giggled, echoing his sentiment from earlier that week. “I told you I’d have you climbing the walls,” she reminded, placing her hands between her thighs and gripping the edge of the desk. 

“Tell me, darling,” she leaned so she was a hair’s breadth from his lips. Red could feel them move against his just barely when she spoke. 

“ _Are you on the walls yet?_ ”

Red’s powerful form pressed its way between her thighs, bending her back onto the desk. “Oh little dove,” he rumbled, “You should be more careful what you wish for.” 

He wasn’t just climbing the walls, the man was practically on the fucking ceiling for want of her. 

“I’m going to have you shaking like a leaf, begging me to take you right here on this desk.” His scorching mouth nipped and licked at her neck, leaving a smattering of love bites in his wake.

Rosalie moaned brokenly, the visual he painted all too arousing. “I’ll beg you to take me right here on the floor, if it means I can have your cock.” Her dirty talk made Raymond chuckle darkly, the thought more than enticing. However, he already had plans in motion, and he desperately wanted to keep them.

“Not yet.” He admonished, pressing against her, “But I have something which might soothe us both for a bit.”

He stepped back slightly, admiring the view of her spread open for him atop the desk. The slit of the dress had fallen between her legs, carefully covering the valley from view.

Agonizingly slowly, Red’s hand slid up the woman’s leg, catching the hem of the garment.

“Tell me you want this.” He murmured, his thumb stroking back and forth over the sensitive expanse of her inner thighs.

“Raymond, if you don’t touch me I’m certain I will scream.” Rosalie retorted blithely, her nerves crackling with need..

The statement was confirmation enough for the man, and he happily shifted the silky material away from his prize.

The sight of her sweet little mound wet and waiting for him nearly took Red to his knees. The soft, neatly trimmed curls were a shade darker than the waves cascading down her shoulders. The little lips were a pretty pink, glistening tantalizingly with her arousal. 

“My God, do you have a pretty little pussy,” he moaned, reaching to cup the mound. She was hot and so, so ready for him.

“And this sweet little clit.” His thumb swiped gently over the tiny hood peeking out from between her lips, earning a broken moan from Rosalie. “You have no idea how much I want this in my mouth.” He sighed, stroking the nub harder, making the woman squirm.

“Raymond, please.” She whimpered, arching into his touch. Every stroke felt amazing, but she needed more.

Her small hand reached between them gripping his throbbing erection through his slacks. Her eyes widened as she felt the thick, hard appendage fill her hand to capacity. “ _Oh_ ”

Red let out a confident growl, smirking as he rocked against the little hand experimentally. A shiver ran his body at the sensation, her small fingers felt wonderful wrapped around his turgid member.

Reluctantly, Raymond pulled her hand away, stepping closer into the valley of her thighs so his heavy, fabric-covered cock was nestled intimately against her wet slit.

As he had the night before, Red set a steady, rocking rhythm against her sensitive flesh.

The movement sent jolts of pleasure through them both, and the woman whimpered her longing for release.

“You needed this, didn’t you, Rosalie?” Red grunted, pressing her back into the hard wood of the desk. “God knows I did.” He confessed, moaning against her neck, the warmth and wetness of her center teasing his shaft just right.

“I want you.” She moaned plaintively, “I-I want you inside.” 

Raymond’s already thin resolve shook with the effort of holding himself back.

“Soon, sweetheart. Soon.” He placated, thrusting against her endlessly.

His cock stroked her perfectly, teasing her little clit without mercy.

“Please,” she wailed, “Oh...oh please, don’t stop.”

Red grinned darkly, “Not a chance, little dove.” He assured her, rutting hard against her wet slit. He was determined to make her come, to prime her soft, gentle body for his possession. 

“I’m going to make you _shatter_.” He assured her, reaching up to palm one of the ample breasts. 

The woman keened beneath him, bending up into his touch as he rolled the nipple into a taught peak. 

“I’m going to ravage this sweet little body.” He ground out, enjoying how her body tightened at his words. “You’ll never want for a damn thing.” He promised boldly, revelling in the feel of her thighs quivering around his waist.

His words were setting the whimpering woman ablaze.

Rosalie scrambled for purchase as she felt her orgasm come roaring through her out of nowhere.

Raymond could feel her shaking, desperately seeking release. “That’s it, let it out. Come for me.” He coaxed, feeling the beginnings of his own orgasm forming. 

Rosalie reached for the collar of his shirt, pulling his mouth to hers in a silent plea. She wanted so badly to come, to give in to the pleasure he was giving.

He leaned forward with a snarl, pinning her hard to the desk and kissing her heatedly as he continued his strong, deliberate strokes.

A wanton moan met his ears and he leaned back to watch enraptured as her lithe body bowed in pleasure. Her orgasm tore through her, leaving her unable to speak as another wave of arousal gushed over the front of Raymond’s trousers. “ _Yes_ ,” she finally managed to eek out in trembling delight, a primal groan of completion following thereafter. “ _Oh_ _God, Yes, Raymond!_ ”

The sight and sound of her unmasked pleasure had Red’s hips jerking against her without rhythm. His legs shook slightly as he felt her hand reach down to cup his testicles, rolling them gently.

Raymond grunted, the slight touch just the incentive he’d needed to come hurtling over the edge.

“Rosalie,” he hissed, pleasure rocketing through his every nerve ending. “ _Yes… Just like that”_ He groaned his approval, thrusting hard against her. He rapidly hurtled toward his climax, his husky murmuring turning his partner on to no end.

 _“Fuck, I’m coming_.” He gasped hips shuddering.

The declaration was met with a mew of arousal as Rosalie doubled her efforts, cradling his balls gently in her hand as her still-quaking hips ground against his pulsating erection.

Raymond came with a guttural, rumbling growl, riding hard against the wet woman beneath him, his cum lubricating his thrusts.

Rosalie moaned as she felt the heat of his release through the wet fabric, adding to her arousal.

The pair were left in a panting, trembling heap on top of the desk. 

Rosalie adored the feel of Red’s ragged breath ghosting along her neck. The sensation made her squirm, coaxing a husky moan from her partner as her hips ground against his sensitive cock head.

Raymond’s bulk pinned the little woman tightly to the surface of the desk, ceasing her wriggling and making her sigh contentedly.

“ _Wow”_ Rosalie gasped as she caught her breath, holding Raymond tight to her. “I can’t tell you how badly I needed that.” Her body felt boneless, minute aftershocks rippling through her skin intermittently.

Red exhaled, a smug expression overtaking him. He kissed her languidly, their lips moulding together in a soft, sensual dance. “I have wanted to make you come for what feels like decades.” He muttered against her mouth, moving to lift himself.

The woman’s arms and legs wrapped around him. “Not yet.” She mewed, wanting to remain pinned beneath him a little while longer.

His sensual chuckle filled her ears as he leaned forward, nuzzling into her neck. “We are going to land soon.” He informed her regretfully, wanting nothing more than to doff the suit and bend her over the desk for round two.

As though on cue, a soft knock could be heard coming from the cockpit door. Dembe’s voice could be heard from the other side. 

“Ten minutes.”

Rosalie groaned her dissension as Red stood, righting his attire. 

A lewd chuckle filled the air as he looked down at his sodden trousers.

The young woman sat up to see what had him so amused and found herself immensely aroused by the outline of his well-endowed member against the soaked material. “I owe you a pair of slacks.” She mused, slightly embarrassed for her shameless response.

Raymond strode over to thumb her chin. “I can’t think of a better way to tarnish a perfectly good suit.” He grinned like the cat who caught canary, “I’m going to consider it a personal mission to see to the ruin of my entire wardrobe via your pleasure.”

The comment removed any embarrassment on her part and replaced it with heated amusement.

The man righted her, kissing her lips once before leading her out into the main cabin. He casually draped his jacket over his lap as the plane touched down on the tarmac.

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************

_Stratos’s Apartment, Siena - July 4th 1999_

 

They had reached the apartment around one in the morning, the other occupants were blessedly asleep, allowing Raymond to walk Rosalie to her door in peace.

She rested against the door’s facing, looking up at him as though he hung the very moon in the sky.

Red leaned one arm on the door frame, the other held her waist as he brushed his nose against hers.

“I had an amazing time tonight, Raymond.” She sighed happily, tilting her chin up to meet his caress.

“What time can I pick you up tomorrow?” Replied Red, smiling at the soft laugh which danced from her lips.

“Hmmm…Seven?” She offered, pleased there would be a second date.

“I think you meant six.” He teased, kissing her once again.

Rosalie giggled, “Any time will do.”

“Until tomorrow.” He murmured, meeting her in a kiss that made her toes curl before pressing off the wall and sauntering toward his room.

“Good Night,” She said warmly, glancing back at him as she closed her door.

Raymond couldn’t help the broad grin which lit his features. “Good Night, Little Dove.” He whispered, stepping into the cool dark of his bedroom.

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************

_Stratos’s Apartment - July 4th, 1999_

 

Raymond and Rosalie woke with serene smiles later that morning, The pair and their guards grabbed a quick breakfast before getting ready for their flight to Greece.

Jacopo had stopped by to say farewell and implore them to attend the next running in August. 

Rosalie was going to miss the boisterous old Sienese. She planned to ask Raymond if they could make the Palio an annual tradition. It had certainly been a fun and eventful week.

Once the well-wishers were gone and the house was quiet again, Rosalie snuck off to the lounge where she knew she would find Raymond. 

Stratos and their guards were conveniently packing, leaving an uninterrupted window for the pair to be alone.

He had been waiting for her. 

The moment she had closed the door, Red had scooped her up and carried her to the loveseat, sitting so she straddled his hips.

“How did you sleep?” She asked, carding her fingers through his hair.

Raymond leaned into the gesture, a soft hum leaving his throat. “Better than I have in weeks. You?”

“The same.” Nodded Rosalie, dipping to kiss his jaw line.

A pair of large, masculine hands gripped her hips, sliding back to squeeze her backside fondly.

“We needed a little release, didn’t we, little dove?” He crooned, opening more of his neck to her affectionate touch.

Rosalie moaned in response. “You know, we have a few hours before we need to head for the plane.” She intoned slyly.

Raymond’s eyes rolled playfully, the ghost of a grin floating across his features. “My dear, a few hours won’t cut it. When I take you I’m going to need a few _days_.”

Rosalie couldn’t help the shiver that ran along her body. At the sound of a knock on the door, she heaved a forlorn sigh. “I hate to burst your bubble darling,” she grumbled, “but the way our schedule runs I doubt we’ll be able to have a few days to enjoy ourselves properly.”

She climbed off his person and straightened her clothes before calling, “Come in.”

Horace poked his head into the room. “Rosie, I have the property manager in Trinidad on the phone. He wants to speak.”

The woman let out a little growl her eyes flitted to Raymond, scrunching her nose before heading out the door with her guard.

As she left the room the thought occurred to Raymond that she was, in fact, correct. They would play hell trying to get more than a few hours to themselves. This thought did not sit well at all with the man. 

They had spent so much time fighting what was going on between them, now they were finally ready to explore that avenue, and they didn’t have the time or the privacy in which to do so. Raymond consider the issue as he drank his coffee and enjoyed his breakfast. The notion was bothering him greatly.

Raymond wanted their first time to be intimate, private, as it should be. He wanted to revel in their union. He wanted to learn her body’s every dip and curve. He wanted to watch her come undone in the dead of night and the early morning sun, wanted them to walk around the house in whatever state of undress they preferred, and make love where and whenever the mood struck. 

They certainly couldn’t do that with Horace and Dembe floating around.

Red snorted. Well, they could, but he was a tad selfish and didn’t want to share the delights of her body with anyone.

Dembe strode into the room, looking thoughtfully at Raymond’s scowl. “You are wondering how to get her alone.” He nodded sagely.

The older man didn’t want to know how his guard was so perceptive. 

“It’s not wrong to want a little time to ourselves.” Grumbled Reddington, shifting slightly.

“It is not.” Dembe agreed, “It is, however, unfortunate you did not pursue this at Break Maiden, where you had a bit more free rein.”

A thought struck Red, and he looked up, beaming at Dembe. “You’ve given me an excellent idea.” He murmured.

The young man’s eyes crinkled their amusement. “How can I help?”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: Tell Me
> 
> He would gather the remnants of that horrid memory and replace each and every second with memories of her. Memories of nights spent in wild passion and trembling lust. 
> 
> She was his.


	16. Tell Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, this wasn't supposed to be the chapter, but things got out of hand once I had Rosalie see Raymond's scars, and that opened such a rabbit hole... There were decisions about the end game for this fic which I needed to make, decisions about people, places, identities and so forth, and it took SO long, I'm sorry! I thought about cutting this down, but the interaction between these two just warmed my heart so much, I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it.  
> I solemnly swear, the next chapter will be Alone, and they will (finally) be getting down to some *ahem* business...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested Listening: _White Blank Page _by Mumford and Sons (Definitely the Amazon Original version...trust me.)__
> 
> Please see chapter description for Author's Note, as always thank you SO MUCH to all of you who leave kudos or comment or just read in the background. It makes my day :)

_Red’s Plane - July 4th, 1999_

Raymond and Dembe were up to something, Rosalie was certain of it.

The entire flight to Athens, the pair were sequestered in the corner of the jet, unusually distant from the rest of the group.

Rosalie sat in her usual seat across from Horace, with Stratos sitting beside him. The latter man laughed knowingly as the young woman’s eyes shifted yet again to her romantic interest and his bodyguard.

“What are they up to over there?” She asked, narrowing her eyes as Raymond glanced up, winking cheekily at her before returning to the folio lying open between himself and the younger man.

“Whatever it is, you won’t get Dembe to rat him out, so I suggest you let it go.” Suggested Horace, shuffling a deck of cards.

Rosalie pursed her lips, trying to come up with a good reason why the two were so secretive all of a sudden.

“Let Red have his secrets, Piccola.” Chided Stratos, taking the proffered cards from her bodyguard. “The odds are he is planning something related to you. Let him surprise you.”

Horace winced. If there had been a wrong thing to say, this was it.

His charge’s head swiveled slowly toward the boyish Greek, batting her dark grey eyes at him. “Stratos, darling, I think you know something.” She cooed, seeming to look into the man’s very soul.

“You have lovely eyes, my dear, but I’m much more concerned about what your lover would do to me if I spoil his fun.” The man replied honestly, shifting the cards in his hand.

The innkeeper’s face immediately dropped to one of definite annoyance. “Well you’re no fun at all.” She grumbled, picking up her book and rifling through it. “Honestly, Stratos, I expected a greater sense of adventure from you.”

Her scolding earned her a booming laugh from both men.

“Oh Piccola,” Stratos sighed, throwing a card down to pick up another, “There is adventure and then there is stupidity. Getting in the way of Reddington’s plans falls distinctly in the latter category.”

The dulcet tones of the man in question resonated over the group. “Now, who’s getting in the way of my plans?”

Rosalie squirmed slightly at the sound, glancing coyly up at him. The man watched the exchange in open amusement, taking his seat beside the little innkeeper.

“It couldn’t be you trying to derail my dastardly deeds, could it?” He questioned, leaning to place a kiss on her neck.

“No,” she insisted innocently. “I was merely curious. It’s unlike you to be tucked in the back corner the whole flight.”

“Missed me, did you?” Red flirted, an all too confident smirk crossing his features.

“I was just amazed at how much elbow room I had.” She quipped, nudging his arm playfully with her own, attempting to pilfer the armrest.

The action made the man laugh. He lifted the item so it was no longer separating them.

“And now he _takes_ my arm rest.” Rosalie sighed exasperatedly, raising her eyes to the heavens and holding out her hands in mock supplication. 

Raymond shook his head at her dramatics before rotating and lying back so his head was in the woman’s lap.

It seemed the move assuaged the loss of her armrest. Rosalie allowed him to lounge serenely against her thighs. Her slender fingers instinctively carded through his short locks, issuing a trail of goosebumps along his neck and scalp. 

It had been a habit of hers from the very beginning of their acquaintance, and the man now found he couldn’t go a day without those little fingers stroking him like this. 

The low rumble of contentment issuing from his broad chest amused Rosalie, who happily continued her ministrations for the remainder of the flight.

****************************************************************************************************

_The Hillside House - Athens, Greece_

Upon arriving in Greece, their merry band piled into the waiting towncar and headed south for their next abode. 

The safehouse resided in the municipality of Vouliagmeni, a quiet suburb of Athens. The little sea-side cottage looked quiet and unsuspecting as the group pulled into the drive. Like most homes in the area, it was carved of natural volcanic rock with small square windows and a vibrant red terracotta roof. 

The gravel driveway was bordered in rosemary and Grecian wildflowers hodgepodged together in a colorful array. A veritable forest of olive and cypress trees covered the remainder of the property, hiding the car port and edges of the home from sight.

Red’s brows quirked in mild surprise. The quaint home was darling, but it seemed unlikely to fit them all. 

An irresistible smirk tugged at the man’s lips. If they ran out of bedrooms, Rosalie would just have to bunk with him.

‘ _What a crying shame._ ’ He thought, instantly thrilled with the small abode. 

Rosalie caught his expression, confused as to what he could be so pleased about.

The man responded by dropping his eyes and trekking them ever so slowly up the feminine form. 

Rosalie blushed and attempted to cast him an admonishing glance, but she was truthfully quite amused. The resulting half-smirk, half-scowl caused Stratos to laugh out loud.

The booming laugh startled their other companions, making Horace nearly run into the side of the car port.

The man’s beetle black eyes glanced in the rear view mirror to see three rather guilty culprits. Rosalie was looking anywhere but the front seat, the Greek was chortling like mad, and Reddington simply stared blithely back at him.

“Alright, everybody out.” The bodyguard groused, throwing the vehicle in park.

Their group disembarked, bags in tow as they followed Rosalie to the entrance. The heavy poplar door swung open to reveal a long, dark hallway through which the young innkeeper lead her guests.

Just when the group thought they might be staying in an actual cave, the hallway reached a set of double doors which Rosalie threw wide, revealing the main living space. 

Compared to the entrance, the lounge was positively ablaze with natural light. The interior walls were made of the same volcanic rock as the exterior, white washed in the classic Greek style.

The floors were made of thick, heavy planks stained a deep honey color to add warmth and texture to the room. The gleaming hardwoods led to a quaint kitchen accentuated by a darker stone wall and a glass-topped island long enough to seat the five of them comfortably. 

Red could see the innkeeper’s nomadic sense of style in the space. There were touches of quintessential Cycladic design everywhere he looked, marrying effortlessly with the woman’s sense of luxurious minimalism. The overall effect reminded one of the palatial abodes found nestled in the Greek Isles. 

The southern wall of the living space wasn’t so much a wall as a massive portico. The vaulted stone arches stood ten feet tall and six feet wide, making the only boundary between the interior living space and the sprawling sunlit balcony outside. 

Raymond strode through the main arch, taking in the view. A vibrant slip of azure sea was framed by monolithic bluffs, stretching before him in an expansive valley before connecting to the sprawling ocean beyond.

The minute size of the home was merely an illusion. Though the first floor stood level with the top of the cliff, an entire second floor resided below, carved deep into the rocky face, with a similar veranda attached. The man looked down, seeing the open space dotted with outdoor seating and the sea churning further below.

A healthy breeze whipped across the man’s skin, bearing the rumbling echo and salty scent of crashing waves. It mixed with the warm sun and the wild rosemary speckling the landscape to create a refreshing cocktail for the senses. 

“She’s a perfect mix of land and sea.” Rosalie called warmly, stepping out into the golden sunlight. “I could have placed us closer to the city center, but I thought this location had a touch more charm.”

Red turned to peer fondly at her through his rose colored sunglasses. “You never fail to amaze, my dear.” He reached to cup her cheek, bringing her forehead within reach of his lips. “The place is incredible.”

She beamed at his praise, glancing up at the Grecian beauty with pride and affection.

Stratos could be heard within, deploring this was his new home, he would be sending for his things post haste, and Rosalie would need to find a new locale to house her bumbling band of ne'er do wells.

His bellowing made the fugitives on the balcony snort with laughter. 

“I’m far too attached to this one to let him have it.” Chuckled Rosalie, shaking her head.

“Good luck telling him that.” Red advised as the man loped onto the balcony.

“Piccolina, this is a _gem_.” Stratos insisted, leaning conspiratorially toward her. “How much would it take for you to part with it?”

Rosalie laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “Stratos dear, she’s not for sale. You are, of course, more than welcome to stay whenever you like.”

The man sighed his disapproval, shaking a finger at her. “Careful, little mogul, I might take you up on that offer and just claim squatters rights.”

Rosalie’s eyes narrowed impishly. “You do that. My bouncers are utterly charming.”

The retort made the men chortle, both rather interested in testing her conviction on the matter.

Seeing her threats did little to dissuade, the woman rolled her eyes and shooed them back inside. “Come along you deviants, let’s get you settled in.”

Stratos and Horace were staying in the bedrooms on the first floor while Dembe, Raymond, and Rosalie took the lower level. As the others were unpacking, latter the two walked lazily toward their rooms, conveniently located in the same hall.

Red felt her warm hand slip into his. He gripped it gently, chuckling sensually as the sprite of an innkeeper tugged him into his room.

The master suite was spacious, yet incredibly cozy. Like the rest of the house, it was carved of stone and had a tall, arching ceiling. It looked much like a cave, though the plush bed and striking white and blue linens made the cavern feel bright and luxurious. The ensuite bath was natural and yet modern. Clean lines in the cabinetry and crisp glass counters complemented the robust river rock shower beautifully. 

As with most of Rosalie’s master suites, the bank of rooms had a subtle sensual undertone. Red had noticed this design trait from the very first safehouse she had set for him. The linens, the artwork, the miscellanea found on the shelves, it all combined to make the master suite inviting and alluring.

“Considering your cardinal rule about ladies of the night in your homes, I’m surprised the master suites are always so sensuous.” Raymond voiced his thoughts, finding the irony rather funny. 

Rosalie stepped into his sphere, her deep grey eyes enjoying the trek up his broad frame. “What do you mean?”

“The master suite is always so…decadent.” He intoned, pulling her close to him and brushing his nose against her temple.

A warm smile plumped Rosalie’s cheeks as she leaned into the gesture. “I set the home to suit the client.” She reminded him.

Raymond pulled back to look at her. “All the homes?” He questioned, the surprise evident in his voice.

The little woman sing-songed her head, the affection in her gaze warming the man holding her. 

“Every client is different, I do what I can to make them comfortable. However, _this_ room and every home you’ve stayed in has been catered just for you.”

Red found himself surprised. Of course, he could remember the incident with the maid in Bulgaria, but it hadn’t occurred to him the woman would still be stocking the safehouses to his specifications.

The young innkeeper let out a tinkling laugh, enjoying his shock. She pointed at the sheets, “The 100% Belgian Linen is your favorite, the fabric stays cool all night long. You like earth tones as well as soothing blues, but just a touch, the rest should be light and neutral.”

Her eyes wandered to the bathroom. “You enjoy the aromatherapy bath products, the ones with basil and eucalyptus. You prefer them laid out in the order they’re in now.”

The man’s eyebrows raised. Red hadn’t realized the bath products had been the same for months, and the woman was absolutely right about the sheets.

Rosalie continued, her eyes flitting up to the ceiling in the direction of the kitchen. “You like the small batch, mid-roast coffee from Ecuador, and on occasion, the lemon darjeeling tea from that one shop we found in London. You’ve a taste for wildflower honey, and I always have your preferred vintage front and center on the bar cart, along with those heavy crystal glasses you seem to enjoy so much.”

Raymond’s smile broadened as he listened to her rattle off his favorite things. He couldn’t say why it warmed him to hear her confidently and accurately list his every preference.

It felt terribly nice to have someone know these seemingly unimportant things.

“I don’t set the homes for other clients the way I do for you.” Rosalie confessed, feeling somewhat sheepish. Raymond was different from her other clientele, he had been from the very beginning. The man became her most important client in a matter of days, and once Rosalie and Horace began traveling with him, the homes became theirs as well.

She set the whole house for their use. To her, it only seemed natural to make the spaces as inviting and enjoyable as possible. Horace’s preferred bacon was in the refrigerator, Dembe’s favorite books were always waiting on his nightstand, each and every room had details for the four of them, but none so much as Raymond. 

The man before her grinned. “Careful, little dove, a man could get used to this sort of treatment.” His tone was teasing, though he was truthfully touched by the level of care and detail she had quietly been putting into their accommodations. 

She made this room sensual and warm and inviting because she knew Raymond would appreciate such surroundings.

He certainly did. The man realized he had thoroughly enjoyed every single home she had brought him to.

Typically, one was bound to encounter an unpleasant safehouse on occasion. It was simply part of being on the run. However, the man now realized he hadn’t been in one single bad location since partnering with the innkeeper.

“Are we still on for tonight?” Asked Rosalie, diverting the conversation from her entirely too thorough knowledge of the man’s preferences.

Red chuckled, allowing the tactic for now. “Most definitely. Though,” he grumbled at the thought, “We won’t be able to stay out till all hours like we usually do. There’s a spot of business I need to take care of with Stratos later tonight.” The man was obviously discontented with the matter, considering there were much more preferable ways to spend the evening.

Rosalie nodded thoughtfully. “Why don’t you have your meeting here?” she suggested, “If you feel you can trust the other party, that is.”

The man considered the thought for a moment. “They are certainly amicable, I’ve been doing business with them for some time. It’s merely a change to one of the shipping routes they want to go over before releasing any product.”

The woman leaned to wrap her arms around his middle, batting her long lashes at him. “Have them over for drinks and desserts, soothe their ruffled feathers. I’ll keep while you play criminal tycoon.”

The statement had Raymond issuing a low, sultry laugh. “You’ll keep, will you?.. and if I won’t?” He asked, pulling her to his solid frame and kissing her soundly.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to.” She murmured against his lips. “Just long enough for you to guarantee their cooperation and for the others to be so inebriated they won’t notice your absence.” She grinned, grey eyes flitting over him restlessly.

“And after they’re all drunk and distracted?” questioned Raymond, enjoying the sensation of her eyes raking him. “Tell me your plans. Are we sneaking off into the night?”

“There’s no need for that.” Purred Rosalie, taking a few steps back from him. “There are hidden delights in this very home we can spend hours exploring.” 

“Oh?” Raymond asked. Her demeanor had him intrigued. The man prowled toward her mischievous form, intent on learning her secrets.

A feminine little giggle reached his ears as the woman rapped two knuckles on the wall behind her.

Raymond stopped as he saw the wall spring open at a break in the wainscoting. It moved aside to reveal yet another heavy poplar door. 

“My God, woman, you have more secret compartments-” 

Rosalie placed her index finger against Red’s lips, quieting his incredulous comment. “This compartment is ours _alone_.” She murmured, brushing her lips against the corner of his mouth. 

The man stiffened, alternating between gazing heatedly at his companion and eyeing the heavy wooden door with interest.

Rosalie reached out and turned the iron handle to reveal a short set of stone steps. She grasped his waiting hand and pulled him through. 

Closing the door behind them, they made their way down to a small landing with an archway on one side. The woman smiled excitedly back at Red as she led him into what could only be described as an unmitigated and utterly decadent delight.

The walls and floor of the hidden room were carved from volcanic rock like the rest of the home, with pristine white walls and floors giving it a bright and airy feel. Polished brass hooks were placed on one side of the arch, while a brightly tiled shower was etched in a cozy alcove on the other. 

A luxurious plunge pool decorated in iridescent blue glass tiles took up most of the remaining space. The secluded grotto led out to another vaulted arch through which the sun shone bright.

“Quiet, relaxing,” whispered Rosalie, “Not a bad spot to play hooky from the others.”

Raymond’s gaze roamed the room, terribly pleased with the turn of events. “Whatever could we get up to in here?” He joked, trying to stem the sudden influx of erotic and debauched images flooding his mind.

The woman turned, a sly expression flirting with her features. “I was thinking a rousing game of water wiggle.” 

Red’s tongue prodded the inside of his cheek at the saucy remark, turning to find the woman’s expression perfectly deadpan. He tugged the minx back into his sphere, a deep, genuine laugh leaping from his mouth. 

The sound ricocheted throughout the vaulted space, making Rosalie’s nose scrunch in smug amusement.

“Oh, I like you,” he crooned, capturing those lips again. Red’s tongue took her hot mouth with abandon, demanding she submit to his ravenous exploration.

Rosalie whimpered her arousal, gripping his lapels tightly. “You like me, huh?” She asked, deepening the contact and relinquishing control to the man’s pleasurable demands.

Raymond growled his agreement, grasping her feminine frame tightly to his. A stifling heat was settling between them, making them both want to bypass their evening plans in favor of christening every inch of the cavernous room.

Rosalie moaned as warm, masculine hands moved sensually up her back. “I like you too.” She conceded, nuzzling his neck before reluctantly settling down.

They were both breathing heavily, eyes hooded with lust as they worked to key down their arousal. 

“Yes,” managed Raymond after a long moment. “You and I are coming down here the moment I’m done with the riff-raff.”

**************************************************************************************************

_Later that evening - The Hillside House - Vouliagmeni, Greece_

 

“ _I_ call it Kotys.” Came a slightly tipsy voice from the bar.

Raymond and Rosalie had just returned from their date in insufferably good spirits. The pair had gone to dinner at one of Rosalie’s hidden gems with a stunning view of Acropolis. Aside from the excellent company, the two had enjoyed a wide array of Mediterranean staples as well as a few new-age gastronomy experiments courtesy of the head chef, of whom both fugitives were acquaintances.

They capped the night at an outdoor art gallery, which Raymond had secured via the owner. The two had the place to themselves, and spent a leisurely hour just strolling the grounds and discussing the various sculptures and tapestries displayed. Just as their first date, the evening passed pleasantly and all too quickly.

The pair had returned well before midnight, and were just raiding the safehouse bar in preparation for Red’s associates, when Stratos had brought up the subject of the house’s name.

“The goddess Kotys was known for the rather lascivious parties her worshipers engaged in.” Intoned Stratos, inclining his head at the two. The man had noticed they were readying enough drinks to put down an army.

“I believe those parties were called orgies.” Raymond quipped dryly, eyes swivelling toward his romantic interest. She had just settled onto the chaise lounge with a book and a glass of gin.

Rosalie met his gaze with one of utmost innocence. “Were they now?” She murmured, turning her page. “ _How very interesting_.”

“Had no idea, did you?” The man needled, completely unconvinced.

“None.” Agreed Rosalie, staring resolutely at her page.

“None at all?” He continued, determined to jostle her cool facade.

“Nary a clue.” She insisted, still avoiding his gaze. 

“I think she might have known _something_ about this story.” Red turned, involving the Greek in his tomfoolery.

“I would say by the way she is avoiding us, she might have known quite a bit, which begs the question… Whatever could you have been planning for this delightful abode, Piccola?” Goaded Stratos, happy to partake in teasing the young woman.

Rosalie stuck her tongue out at him, still firmly ensconced behind her book.

“I should say so.” Agreed Reddington, “What truly convinces me is the lovely little blush which seems to be encasing her from head to toe as we speak.” He uttered the last phrase with a caress, staring unabashedly at the tantalizing form on the chaise.

Stratos took this as a cue to make himself scarce. Chuckling, he stood and quickly headed for the exit.

Rosalie glanced furtively over the edge of her book, only to find the confident form of Raymond Reddington poised over her. His proximity made her squeak, hiding behind the tome and giggling tipsily in spite of herself.

Raymond couldn’t hold his amusement, finding her antics charming to say the least. He pressed his towering frame into hers, dipping his head below her book to place his lips at the shell of her ear. “Tell me, little dove, does this pretty pink hue extend everywhere?” He growled, sliding his hand up the tight skirt to fondle her hip.

“There’s only one way to find out.” She mewed, her tone belying a bravado Rosalie didn’t know she possessed.

The man above her stilled, making her worry she had taken their game too far, too soon.

In the next moment, a noise erupted from his throat which told her he didn’t mind her rascally quip. He didn’t mind it one bit.

The woman’s book was unceremoniously tossed aside as Red settled himself further within the valley of her thighs. 

Her legs wrapped about his waist, drawing the man closer so she could nibble his neck.

The sensual touch teased a low moan from him. His deft fingers quickly sought out the buttons of her shirt, slipping the little pearls from their resting place and baring her for his viewing pleasure. A small smattering of freckles stole the man’s heart as they speckled the newly bared expanse of warm, soft skin.

“So beautiful.” Raymond groaned, taking in the gorgeous sight of Rosalie’s heavy breasts wrapped in deep burgundy lace. They were perfect, just more than a handful, with pert nipples straining against the taught lace. 

A grin ghosted across Red’s features as he noted the blush did indeed cover her entire body.

Rosalie beamed for his mood, biting her bottom lip and watching his reaction hungrily. 

His green eyes held hers, mouth dropping to the pristine mounds, peppering the satin skin with affection.

The woman beneath him sighed her approval, arching her body into his. When her pelvis met the front of his slacks, Red grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with one of his large masculine hands. 

Rosalie giggled, enjoying the new dynamic. The giggle quickly turned into a throaty moan as Red’s other hand reached up to pinch her nipple. The man held her paralyzed as his unoccupied hand pulled aside the cup of her bra.

Rosalie gasped and arched into him again as the plump mound was exposed to him.

Raymond had just managed to flick his tongue over the delicious little peak, earning a wanton mew from his companion, when the doorbell rang.

“ _Dammit_.” He growled, reluctantly releasing his lover.

The woman groaned and trembled beneath him. Her desire was so evident, Raymond felt like an absolute cad for not finishing what he’d started.

“I’ll make it up to you, my dear.” He promised, helping to set the dazed woman to rights.

“ _Just long enough to soothe their feathers_.” She reiterated, kissing him once more as Stratos led Red’s associates noisily down the hall.

The boyish Greek strode into the lounge, glad to see the amorous couple looking the very definition of put together.

In truth, the way Raymond was looking at the woman earlier, Stratos had expected to find them en flagrante.

Red silently communicated with his companion, who helped serve several rounds of rather stout drinks to the group as they settled in on the issue of the shipping routes.

**************************************************************************************************

A couple hours later, Rosalie had managed to sneak out onto the balcony as Stratos and the shipping associates were drunkenly singing a compilation of local ballads in the lounge.

Raymond stopped en route to her location to lean into Dembe’s ear. “Tell me we are ready for tomorrow.” 

The younger man nodded quietly. “Yes, everything is prepared.”

“Thank God.” Sighed Raymond, gripping his shoulder in thanks. “And her black book?”

Dembe‘s soulful eyes shone bright with mischief. “It’s back in her suitcase, safe and sound.”

“Excellent.” The fugitive, beamed gratefully at his friend. “Don’t feel obligated to stay up too late, Horace and Stratos can deal with this bunch just fine. We're going to finish our date away from prying eyes.”

Dembe shook his head and laughed softly to himself, wishing the other man a pleasant evening.

Red joined Rosalie out on the balcony. They bided their time, waiting for a solid ten minutes before tiptoeing back inside, making a beeline for the door to the lower level.

The pair sniggered as they descended the stone steps, making their way into the warm hallway leading to their rooms.

“My God, it’s hotter’n hell and half of Georgia.” Rosalie sighed wiping the tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes. “I’m definitely going to take a dip before bed.” Her gaze swiveled casually toward her date. “Are you still up to joining me?”

Raymond’s face lit with amusement. They were both still tipsy, though they blessedly avoided drinking the concoction Rosalie had macgyvered to inebriate the others. He still fully intended to enjoy the remainder of their evening in the secluded grotto below. 

“Sounds like a delectable nightcap, my dear.”

Rosalie beamed at his agreement, kissing the hand holding hers before releasing him and scurrying to her room. “Meet you down in 15?”

Red nodded, chuckling softly to himself as he entered his room, doffing his jacket, waistcoat and tie.

It wasn’t until the man was removing his shirt that a realization came and slapped him in the face. 

When the garment fell to the floor, he stared at the tall mirror by the foot of the bed, the truth glinting at him from the tops of his shoulders and the sides of his arms.

His scars _._

How could he have possibly forgotten about them?

There would be no hiding them from Rosalie if he went down there. The woman had no idea what he kept hidden beneath his suits.

The mottled flesh didn’t necessarily bother Raymond; he confidently occupied his skin regardless. It was, however, rather telling of his past. It wouldn’t take much digging for someone to draw conclusions on who he might have been based on those scars.

Would Rosalie go looking into his identity after seeing them? 

She had said his name was of no consequence to her. Did he believe her?

The man had trouble trusting anyone’s motives, but he believed he could trust Rosalie’s implicitly. She had proven herself time and again over the past year. The woman was unflinchingly loyal, a friend, and a confidant. Hell, Red was pursuing a relationship with her, which denoted a certain level of trust and confidence. He told himself she would not go looking.

 _But what would he tell her?_  

He certainly couldn’t tell the whole story of that night. It would be too damning, too revealing, she would know too much. It would put them both at risk.

Yet the man knew he would have to provide some kind of explanation. Though Rosalie would be understanding about the secret of his name, Raymond had the distinct feeling she wouldn’t stand for him keeping anything else from her. 

He had promised he wouldn’t, as a matter of fact.

 _'The best falsehoods are built on truths_.' His mind supplied readily. Raymond would simply tell her there was a fire, a disagreement amongst business associates. There was no need for her to know about Katarina and the others.

The tale would have to do for now. Red’s stomach pitched unpleasantly. The vague story felt unpalatable. In any other circumstance, he wouldn’t hesitate to spin the yarn in whatever direction he required, but knowing the story would be fed to Rosalie left the man feeling a distinct wave of discontent. 

 _‘It’s for the best.’_ He reminded himself, thinking of her safety. She could never know, he simply needed to get over the fact that Rosalie would not know this aspect of him.

Red removed the rest of his clothing rather moodily, flinging the articles over the nearby chair in a careless fashion.

A few rare insecurities came flooding to the fore at the thought of being bared to the beautiful woman down the hall. 

He had lived with the scarring for years, and the rest of his body he felt quite confident with. However, this would be the first time she saw the man in such a state of undress. 

Would the scars bother her? 

A corner of Raymond’s mind chastised him for thinking such a thing. 

“She’s not shallow.” Red grumbled aloud, shaking his head when he realized he was talking to himself.

The man strode swiftly toward the closet, taking out a pair of deep navy blue trunks with a sigh. Rosalie was bound to see his scars sooner or later, he just hadn’t been prepared for her to see them tonight. A fact he would need to reconcile with in the next five minutes.

Once changed, he strode slowly down the hidden stairs, one of the thick fluffy towels draped over his shoulders. His heart was thudding steadily in his chest, a stifling nervousness coursing through his veins. Red rounded the corner at the base of the stairs, eyeing the grotto warily. He inhaled deeply through his nose, exhaling when he heard the soft sound of pattering feet behind him.

He looked up to see Rosalie’s warm smile. She was clad in a similar fluffy towel and holding a pair of ice cold blackberry brambles. 

He was adjusting the tie on his trunks when he turned, revealing his bare chest to her wide-eyed gaze. 

The sight of him nonchalantly fiddling with the drawstring at his waist stopped Rosalie in her tracks. Her dark eyes burned white-hot as they raked his stocky build, admiring the wealth of light hair which covered his chest and trailed down his stomach before disappearing beneath the waistband of his trunks.

“Well hello there.” Rosalie purred realizing this was the first time she had seen the man sans a shirt.

The woman had caught glimpses, certainly, but the minuscule triangle exposed when he had those first few buttons popped did not do justice to the arousing sight before her. 

Raymond was positively virile in look and stature. He stood half a head taller than her, and his broad, powerful frame still managed to look relaxed and debonair in a pair of swim trunks and a towel. The dark shorts framed his waist and encased his defined thighs nicely. Her eyes trekked downward, noting his legs were toned and proportionate to the rest of him, bearing the same light colored hair as his chest. 

Rosalie found the whole package more than a little enticing.

Her flirtatious banter and blatant interest soothed Raymond minutely, and the little peck she gave the underside of his chin as she reached the landing all but wiped the scars from his mind. Red reached out, ushering her into the room with a heated stare.

The young woman squeaked softly as his large hand squeezed her towel-clad bottom, goosing her into the cool alcove and ensuring the door to his room was locked behind them.

The cavern was an incredibly sensual setting at night. 

The light of the mid-day sun no longer poured in through the arch at the far end of the pool, having been replaced with periodic flashes of pearly moonlight. 

Rosalie meandered about, setting their drinks on a little tray beside the water’s edge before dropping her towel carelessly alongside it.

It was Raymond’s turn to stop and stare.

A moan of longing erupted from the man as he took in the delectable sight of the young innkeeper in a swimsuit. The strappy number was a deep, dark green, and gave him an unrivaled view of every one of her feminine assets.

Rosalie was a curvaceous woman with ample breasts and luscious hips which tapered into a pronounced hourglass at her waist. Her flat tummy was cute and toned, and there was even a lovely little birthmark which looked to be the size of his thumb on her ribcage. 

The scar from their ambush in Munich was still quite visible, though Kate’s impeccable handiwork had reduced it to a slim red line.

The lithe form bent to pick up a candle lighter from the tray, the view of her smooth legs and peachy backside beckoned another grunt from Red. His large hands gripped his towel tightly, barely restraining himself from striding across the room and sheathing his rampant erection in that smoldering valley.

The little hellion had the nerve to giggle at the noise, carrying on as if she didn’t know she was tormenting him as always. Her pert derrière wiggled enticingly, the outline of her sex just visible against the taut fabric of her bottoms. 

Raymond was uncomfortably hot, his predicament made worse by the little flush gracing the woman’s skin when she felt his eyes continue to roam her hungrily. 

Truthfully, Rosalie loved the way Raymond looked at her. When he was hot and bothered, the predatory side of him came to the fore. It made her feel like he was going to pin her down and ravish her at any moment. The suspense was positively to die for.

The green orbs tracked her across the room as she lit the candles on the walls to give them a bit more light.

The soft yellow flicker only served to cast tantalizing shadows over her nearly naked form. From his place by the arch, Red could see the shadow of two dimples situated adorably at the base of her spine. 

He idly wondered, if he ran his tongue over them, would she squirm?

Setting the lighter aside, Rosalie lifted a slender leg, prodding the pool with her toe. She hummed her enjoyment, finding the temperature to be perfect.

A warm expression plucked at her lips as she took a step into the cool, dark water. “Are you going to join me, or are you planning to just watch me strut about in a bikini all night?”

Her teasing pulled Red from his distracted state, and he hitched a reluctant smile onto his mouth. He took a step toward the pool, hesitating at the water’s edge.

Rosalie noted his trepidation. “Is there something wrong?” She asked, looking about the room for the source of his discomfort.

“No.” He took a cleansing breath, there was no point in sugar coating it. “I have quite a bit of scarring, and I am rather hesitant to broach the subject with you.”

The confession was met with a look of quiet understanding from his counterpart. She ascended the steps of the pool, taking his hand in hers. “We all have scars,” she murmured, “But if you aren’t ready for me to see them, it’s okay. The last thing I would want is to push you into divulging something you’re not ready for me to know.”

The grey eyes were gentle as she brushed her thumb comfortingly back and forth over his palm. Raymond felt the sincerity behind the gesture, and it soothed him greatly. He realized he needn’t have been concerned, Rosalie was going to be as kind and caring as always.

The desire to be bared to this woman intensified, pressing Red to grip her hand and bring it up to his lips. “I’m ready.” He nodded, allowing her to painstakingly pull the towel from his shoulders.

Rosalie went and hung the fluffy item from one of the nearby hooks, turning to see Raymond with his back to her, taking a step into the pool. 

Her hand flew up to her mouth, feeling as though she had swallowed a gallon of ice water in one gulp. 

The skin of Red’s back shone silver in the low light. 

The scarring was extensive, cascading from the tops of his shoulders, fanning out onto his arms and rippling down his back in a cacophony of dimples and valleys. 

A flood of sympathy coursed through the young woman at the sight. Something or someone had hurt him terribly. She thanked every deity she knew that she hadn’t gasped, not wanting Red to feel as though there was anything wrong with the way he looked. Her hand dropped immediately back to her side, and she crossed the room to stand behind his rigid form.

“There was a fire,” he explained in a terse tone. The man was unsure as of yet what the woman thought.

“Was it an accident?” Rosalie asked, hoping this wasn’t something done to him out of vindictiveness.

“Yes and no.”

Her head tilted at the non committal answer. “This has something to do with your name?” She deduced.

Red nodded stiffly.

“Understood.” She said softly, much to the man’s surprise. Her small hand reached out in a tentative gesture. “May I?”

Raymond‘s back tightened, thinking she was merely feeling sorry for him. “You don’t have to-” he began, but she shook her head.

“This isn’t pity.” She interrupted, her tone firm. “We’re dating, Raymond. I won’t tolerate being barred from showing affection for every last inch of you.”

The remark held her usual warmth mixed with a potent possessiveness which lessened Red’s dour mood considerably. 

The man turned and scanned her expression. Her dark eyes were set, unyielding and yet still the very definition of kindness. A slender hand sat mid-air, awaiting his permission. The man memorized those features for a moment before giving her a curt nod.

Rosalie’s hand moved to rest like the weight of a feather between Red’s shoulder blades. The damaged flesh contracted beneath her fingertips, the gentle touch feeling foreign after all these years. 

“Does it hurt?” She asked, her voice resonating with concern. Her palm traced carefully along the rough, reddened river flowing from his shoulders down his back.

“Not anymore.” Red hummed, deeply enjoying the sweet caress. 

Rosalie leaned forward, her eyes holding his over his shoulder as she placed petal soft lips to his arm.

Red relaxed a few more degrees at the action. She obviously wasn’t repulsed by what she saw.

Her mouth trailed from one shoulder to another, dropping warm, affectionate kisses every few inches until she reached the other side.

Her hands snaked around his torso, hugging him tightly to her, drawing circles through his chest hair.

Raymond was pleasantly surprised. 

Other than her initial shock, the woman hadn’t balked or gasped in any way. As a matter of fact, she was going out of her way to show his scars were nothing more than a point of concern for her, worried the damage still ailed him. 

She had asked him if it hurt, nothing else.

“Let’s talk about something more enjoyable,” suggested Raymond, turning to kiss her forehead. 

The blonde nodded softly, releasing his torso and allowing him to step into the refreshing water.

The man let out a relieved sigh as he was engulfed by the cool depths. It had been too long since he’d enjoyed this particular sensation.

Rosalie couldn’t help the watery smile which graced her features. It seemed Raymond quite enjoyed swimming. She made a mental note to choose more safe houses with pools, or at the least, very large bathtubs.

She joined him, plucking their drinks from the tray beside the water’s edge and passing one to Raymond.

He took the beverage gratefully, the refreshing taste of blackberries and Rosalie’s preferred gin flowing pleasantly over his tongue. The man settled into the corner bench, setting his glass on a nearby stone shelf.

Rosalie wriggled into the small space behind him, wrapping her toned legs about his waist and tugging him so he lay back against her.

Red laughed softly at her antics, resting his head against her shoulder and dropping his hands to stroke along the backs of her thighs. 

Her breasts were pressed against his back, brushing the sensitive skin periodically as the water bobbed them about.

“You’re doing a darling impression of a koala.” He teased, earning a scoff from his counterpart.

“I’m a cuddler, get used to it.” She retorted, her hands caressing his chest and arms lazily. 

Raymond felt Rosalie’s lips brush his earlobe before she suckled the sensitive flesh between her teeth. 

The man grunted his approval, shifting to expose more of his neck to her pleasurable attention.

She took the offering, peppering the sensitive expanse of skin with affectionate nips and kisses until Red all but purred in her arms. _This_ was how he had wanted to spend the remainder of the evening.

They relaxed against the stone bench for several long minutes, talking about everything and nothing. The woman continued to shower her partner in affection, thrilled each time she made his breath hitch.

“You’re turning me on.” He rumbled, rotating to his knees and pulling the little innkeeper to him.

Rosalie’s legs wrapped back around him, bringing her feminine frame flush with his.

Raymond carried her toward the center of the pool, enjoying the sensation of her scantily clad body pressed tightly to his.

They met in a tangle of lips and tongues, drawing a sigh of relief from them both. They had spent all day waiting to be alone in the sensual space.

With a sly smirk, Red plucked at the strings holding her bottoms in place, rejoicing internally as the miniscule bows came undone. He tugged the garment, earning a surprised squeal from Rosalie as the soft material snaked out from between her thighs.

“Raymond!” She chastised, somehow now a modest maiden. Her previous pursuits all but flung from her mind.

Red reached down to grip her ass, pulling her nice and close. “This outfit has been driving me crazy, little dove.” He growled, “I need to satisfy one of my more primal urges.”

“Oh?” She whimpered, arching into him as his fingertips skirted along her sensitive flesh.

“Yes,” said Raymond, lifting her with him and making his way to the edge of the pool. He laid out a large, fluffy towel and perched her on the edge, pressing her to lay back on the warm surface.

His deft fingers immediately sought her glistening folds. The satin softness parted for him as he coaxed a lone digit between her lips.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about this since last night.” Red hummed, “Every waking moment has been torture, knowing what lay waiting for me, just beneath your skirt.”

The thought made Rosalie’s dark eyes widen, her arousal sparkling clearly in their depths.

He petted her lazily, enjoying each squirm and tremor which wracked her body. His fingertips traced her with a light, teasing touch, coaxing her arousal to a steady burn.

The man leaned forward, his lips traversing her in a languid, patternless path, following the plane of her tummy up to the swell of her breasts. He could see the tiny outline of her pert nipples perked against the swimsuit’s cups. 

“ _Raymond_ ,” she mewed, arching into his touch. The feel of his warm, wet mouth combined with the soft prickle of his five o’clock shadow, creating an incredibly erotic mix of sensations along her skin. Rosalie bit her lip and grinned as she wondered how his stubble would feel between her thighs.

The thought burned her from the inside out. 

Red’s finger circled her entrance, pleased to feel the slick arousal pooling there. “Look at you, so wet and ready for my attention.”

The statement made the woman wriggle, eager to feel more of him.

“ _Mmm...yes_.” He growled, enjoying her impatience. “I’ve been waiting to feel this tight little pussy stretched around my fingers for so long.”

Red pressed against the silky passage, urging the little alcove to relent.

Rosalie could feel her body fluttering to accommodate the thick digit. A moan echoed off the walls as her searing heat gripped him, hindering his progress. 

The man chuckled darkly, the incredible tightness a delightful surprise. 

Raymond pulled back slightly, coating his finger further in her arousal before pressing deeper into the trembling slit. He wriggled, swirled and nudged against her sensitive walls insistently, ensuring the little hole would give in.

Rosalie mewled, the twisting and thrusting causing her desire to build rapidly. Her tight heat started to give way to his assault, allowing the writhing appendage deeper and deeper until the man’s large palm sat snugly against her, pressing and grinding against her clit.

The woman panted as his middle finger settled deep inside her. “ _Raymond_ ” She mewed, arching into the feeling of fullness.

“That’s it,” he purred, thrilled when her little hips rut against his palm. Red loved seeing a woman lose herself to her body’s demands, and Rosalie was proving particularly enchanting to watch.

The slender fingers of one hand were buried in her blonde tresses, gripping the strands in a tight fist. The other hand cradled her breast, kneading the pert mound as her body bowed in response, dragging that little clit against the heel of his hand.

Raymond’s head swam with arousal, realizing he held this gorgeous creature’s pleasure literally in the palm of his hand. It was a heady thought, making him feel powerful and more than a mite possessive. 

The wet little hole relaxed under Red’s diligent care, taking the large finger greedily as Rosalie rocked into each thrust.

Raymond smiled serenely over her, taking in every nuance of her writhing form. He learned her every whim,; which strokes made her breath hitch, what caresses had her legs trembling around him, and that one particular moan which told him he’d found the sweet spot which would make her come undone.

The view was making him incredibly hard, wanting desperately to partake in the shivering woman’s excruciating pastime. 

Instead, he slowly began working his ring finger into the tight passage.

 _“_ Sh- oh, _Shit.”_ Rosalie panted heavily, her toes curling into the towel. The added digit spread her deliciously, making her thighs quake helplessly on either side of her lover. 

“I like it when this sweet little mouth says such naughty words.” He teased, kissing her in a slow, sensual rhythm. She mewed throatily when his tongue took hers, teasing it in concert with his fingers. 

He worked both digits into her snug heat, swirling and pressing into the slick space until she gave in to his invasion. Red growled his arousal with each centimeter she took, fantasizing about burying his throbbing cock deep in the clenching heat. 

“That’s my girl.” He praised her as his fingers were once again accepted up to the hilt.

The woman let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden thrust, sighing her pleasure when the thick digits kept rocking into her, easing the tight passage open relentlessly.

“ _Yes, oh…like that_ ,” She sighed, enjoying every touch.

“ _Tell me Rosalie_ , tell me how it feels, knowing it’s my fingers stroking you just right.” His delicious baritone washed over her senses, luring her deeper into the wilds of passion he was creating.

Rosalie’s hands were fisting the towel above her as she ground herself on the pumping digits. “ _God...Raymond it’s so good_.” She whimpered, her body crackling with pleasure. She could feel the coiling sensation beginning deep inside, signaling where Raymond was rapidly taking her.

“ _Please_ ,” she groaned, lurching when the man added his talented thumb to the mix.

Red chuckled darkly, “God, I love how responsive you are.” He murmured intimately, stroking her clit in time with his tireless fingers. Rosalie was shaking beneath him, edging closer and closer to release. He could actually feel her heat start to throb and clench.

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you Rosalie?” He crooned, maintaining the same steady tempo, watching her face religiously.

The little blonde moaned in response, a vibrant blush burning on her chest and cheeks. She was clutching the towel beneath her in a death grip, watching memorized as Red’s thick, wet digits pumped in and out of her.

“ _More_ ,” she pleaded, those lovely hips rocking against his hand with abandon, desperately seeking her climax.

“That’s it,” He growled, increasing his tempo, the sound of his hand stroking her sodden folds filling the air. “Come for me. _I want to feel this beautiful body shatter._ ”

Raymond watched in unmitigated delight as Rosalie’s body bowed off the ground. Her back moved in an arc following the curl of his fingertips against her g spot.

The woman cried out, the pleasure too much to bear as he beckoned her to meet his demands. “ _There…Oh please…right there!”_ she begged, her hips bucking without rhythm. 

Rosalie couldn’t believe how good Red made her feel. She was happily at his mercy, her every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

The man rumbled his approval as he felt her arousal soak his hand. 

She reached and gripped his shoulders, bringing him close to her as she gave into the ecstasy he was evoking.

He brushed his mouth against hers, grinning at the feel of her sweet panting and whimpering ghosting across his lips. Red had waited so long to hear those desperate sounds.

The coil winding inside Rosalie snapped violently, sending her hurtling over the edge with a desperate cry of pleasure. 

Raymond felt the tight, hot tunnel convulse around him almost painfully. A husky growl escaped his throat as he kept his fingers writhing inside, drawing out her pleasure for as long as possible.

The feel of her pulsating around him made his dick throb, a drop of precum dripping from the tip as the heavy appendage brushed against her thigh.

“So tight… _So tight and so damn wet for me_.” Red praised, fingertips still coaxing her g spot.

Those lovely hips bucked as she came, her body shattering with her pleasure as he’d promised. It was a show of which Raymond was certain he could never tire.

Rosalie shivered and moaned her release, her tight sex drawing endlessly on the man’s thick digits. 

The sensation was incredible, if he could bring her to such heights with only his hand, dear god, what would it be like with his cock?

Red’s lips kissed a soothing path up her trembling form, coaxing her down from her high. Each sound she made seemed to travel to his rock hard length, increasing the tension in his body as the last of hers ebbed away.

“ _Oh, Ray-,_ ” she sighed shakily, her hips jerking as he slowly pulled the soaking digits from her pulsating slit. She was so incredibly relaxed, Rosalie couldn’t bring herself to move for several moments.

Red grinned smugly at her, peppering her flushed skin with affection, basking in the sated glow for which he alone was responsible. The man had wanted to feel her orgasm first hand for a terribly long time. He could honestly say his wildest imagination paled spectacularly in comparison to the real thing. She was so responsive, so open with her arousal and her affection. It made his insides burn pleasantly.

“Why don’t we shower together tonight?” He suggested evenly, tilting his head in the direction of the tiled alcove across the room.

Rosalie nodded dazedly, allowing the man’s every whim.

They slowly made their way to the stall, where Rosalie reached in to start the water.

Her companion admired the bend of her bare backside as it stuck out of the stall. The missing piece of her suit was still somewhere in the depths of the pool. The desire to deliver a playful little swat to the pert little cheeks was rather difficult for Red to suppress.

The man settled for tugging on the remaining bow, causing the top of her bikini to cascade to the floor.

Rosalie shivered, realizing she was completely naked and bent quite provocatively in front of one very aroused Raymond Reddington.

A broad, masculine hand settled on the small of her back, easing a scorching path up her spine.

Another moan crawled its way out of her, echoing into the small shower. Rosalie stood, turning so her naked body was presented to his hungry gaze. 

Raymond simply stared at the beauty afforded him for a moment, memorizing every last inch of her.

The sweet little triangle of her sex drew his eye first, the soft curls he had been playing in moments earlier coaxed a grunt of desire from his throat. Newfound territory commanded his attention, however, and the man found himself gazing ardently at her voluptuous breasts. He reached out, silently asking her permission. Rosalie gave him a feverish nod before Raymond cupped both mounds in his large hands. He marveled at the way the pristine flesh contrasted with his slightly darker skin. Her pert nipples were straining in the chilled night air, beckoning Red’s mouth to their quivering pink peaks. His calloused thumbs swiped over the stiff pebbles, earning a sharp hiss of pleasure from his lover.

“In.” He growled inarticulately, guiding her back toward the shower. Raymond kissed her languidly, enjoying the simple pleasure of showering with the woman. 

She drizzled his favored body wash over them both, enjoying the raw sensuality of such an act.

Red couldn’t help but map the edges of her curves, outlining the hourglass as he covered it with fragrant lather. The man was painfully hard, a state which his current pastime did nothing to alleviate.

As he threaded his fingers through her long locks, helping to rinse away the conditioner, he felt her little hands playing with the catch on his trunks.

“What are you up to, little dove?” Red questioned, hoping like hell this was going where he thought.

“Mmm…” Rosalie mewed against his mouth, finally undoing the knot blocking her path. Her soft hand snuck beneath the material of his trunks, wrapping around the twitching member she found within.

“ _Oh_ ,” she gasped at her discovery, stroking the appendage experimentally. “ _This_ is what I’ve been wanting.”

A guttural groan echoed loudly off the walls when she grasped him. Red had been aching for her touch. Her hand was delightfully slick from the bath products, gliding over his heated flesh with ease.

“God _damn_ ” he gritted, gripping the wall behind her for support.

Rosalie hummed her arousal at the action, holding his green eyes heatedly as she teased his shaft. She gripped him tightly and slid down in slow, painstaking trek, allowing him to feel every nuance of her small fingers engulfing his length. The action made his broad frame tense, a growl rumbling from his chest.

Red voiced his discontent when she unexpectedly released him.

“I’m just getting rid of one final obstacle,” she assured, tugging the waistband of his trunks so the garment slid down his defined legs. 

Rosalie moaned as the object of her desire came into view.

Raymond’s thick, throbbing erection bobbed heavily before her. The sight made her mouth water and the valley of her thighs ache deliciously. Her hands trailed down the smattering of hair leading from his chest down to his pelvis, thrilling at how the soft down framed his cock.

He was cut, just above average in length and girth, and impossibly hard. Reaching out to hold the appendage, Rosalie whimpered her arousal. Her thumb and middle finger couldn’t quite touch when wrapped around him. 

The young woman’s mind was filled with erotic fantasies of what the twitching shaft would feel like dragging along her sensitive sex. Her intrigue and arousal showed plainly on her face, driving the owner of said shaft absolutely spare.

When her dark grey eyes flitted innocently up to her lover, the man actually quivered. 

Her curiosity and desire to please shone bright in her gaze. Rosalie was going to learn him every bit as thoroughly as he had just learned her.

****************************************************************************************************

Raymond and Rosalie found they were both expressive lovers. They purred, praised, and echoed their enjoyment at every available interval, but the real differences between the two lay in their dirty talk. 

Where Raymond had a delicious, rumbling drawl which demanded a response, Rosalie liked to whisper and croon softly in a melodic tone for the man’s ears alone. 

She spoke so quietly in those moments, Raymond had to lean in, his ear hovering next to her sinful mouth. 

This was exactly where she wanted him. 

From such a vantage point, she purred an endlessly erotic refrain, her lips brushing the sensitive skin of his neck, her hot breath sending goosebumps to every corner of his aroused and aching body. The sensations were intoxicating, but _dear God_ , the words which came from her perfect little mouth were what sent the man into a frenzy.

Rosalie had chosen to tell him of the night of the Palio, after he had left her room. She told him how aroused she had been, unable to sleep for the wicked fantasies which had plagued her in the night. She confessed her desire had sent her mind scurrying down the hall more than once. She had wanted him so badly, she just couldn’t help but take matters in hand.

Raymond rocked greedily into the aforementioned appendage, moaning his involvement at the decadent tale. He listened intently, his body inching closer and closer to its peak while she used him as a confessional for her late night sins. 

Red’s eyes rolled back when her breath tickled his ear and her soft hand swirled about his cock head, the dual sensations almost too much to bear. His hips jerked into the wonderful feeling, wanting more of her particular brand of penance.

“ _Fuck_.” He husked, gasping as her small palm focused on the throbbing crown, spreading the pre-cum all over his aching head. 

“I couldn’t stand it anymore,” she murmured intimately. “I touched myself until I came on the little fingers currently stroking your thick, perfect cock.” 

“ _Jesus, Rosalie_.” He rumbled, nuzzling against her desperately. He was so close, her words were painting such a sinful picture in his mind’s eye, setting him up for an incredible climax. He could feel her smaller digits spread with every pass of his large cock.

“But… it wasn’t enough.” Rosalie bemoaned, the dark eyes turning innocently up to him. 

“No?” He groaned, his toes gripping against the tiled floor.

She grinned for his expression. The man’s brow was furrowed in concentration, his tantalizing lips were parted in a gasp, and his body was wound so tight Rosalie was certain he would snap. It was an incredible sight, seeing the formidable man bowed in pleasure, knowing it was she who brought him to such heights.

Her lips brushed against his, open and beckoning, just out of reach.

The teasing gesture made Raymond moan plaintively, wanting to taste her sweet mouth again.

She readily appeased, her hot little tongue slipping into the waiting cavern and undulating in time with her hand’s strokes.

Raymond sighed against her, sucking the little pink muscle gently before breaking the kiss, a deeper craving making itself known.

His large hand reached down and palmed one of her full breasts. The man leaned forward, nuzzling her fragrant skin, earning a sigh from the woman before he drew the chilled pebble of her nipple into his scorching mouth.

The wanton sound which escaped Rosalie told Raymond she enjoyed having her breasts suckled almost as much as he enjoyed having the delectable flesh in his mouth.

Rosalie gasped her surprise then let out a squeal of delight as Red’s teeth nibbled the aching bud. “Oh _God…_ ” She hissed, arching into his attentions. Her hand grasped his turgid member tighter without thought, pulling a deep growl from her lover.

“Why wasn’t it enough?” Red demanded,  thrusting into her strokes with abandon. He needed to hear the end of this erotic interlude.

“Because nothing soothes the ache.” She confided, her tone honest even in her lusty state. “It’s never enough. I’m always left wanting you.”

A deep tingling sensation was beginning in Raymond’s spine, her confession conjuring every fantasy he’d had of them making love. 

He had thought he was out of his mind, when his need for her began occupying his every waking moment. To know she felt the same desire, that same _ache_ which made his body burn from the inside out, nearly took the man to his knees.

Rosalie goaded Red further by reaching to stroke his testicles with her other hand, making his knees buckle.

She mewed as she felt his cock expand and harden even further, his climax imminent. His breath was coming in sharp gasps against her breast as Rosalie continued to stroke him, tightening her little fist and shortening her strokes to tease just past his aching head. 

“Do you know what else I’ve been longing for?” She cooed in his ear, smiling at the tremor which shook his frame.

“ _N-no_ ,” he swallowed, inching ever closer to euphoria, dying to hear her next statement, somehow knowing it would take him over the edge.

The woman went silent, waiting for the ideal moment.

“Dammit, Rosalie, fucking _tell me._ ” He demanded thrusting into her grip and grazing his teeth over her nipple as he teetered right on the edge.

“I’ve been dying to feel you _come_.” She growled soulfully against the shell of his ear.

It was as though she had said the magic word. 

A deep, husky snarl leapt from Raymond’s mouth, sending goosebumps down her spine.

“Oh…Yes _, God, yes.”_ He groaned brokenly as his slit pulsed hard. A thick rope of cum shot onto Rosalie’s torso, followed by another and another. 

Her hot little hands continued teasing his crown and massaging his balls, urging every last drop of release from his pulsing shaft. The sight of his cum covering her from sternum to thighs was both comforting and arousing, making the woman mew her contentment.

Red gasped and moaned, watching the sinful show of his orgasm coating her satin skin. It was an arousing sight, making his hips jerk, easing him through the last vestiges of the incredible high she had taken him to.

Rosalie watched enraptured as the last of his orgasm dripped from the throbbing head. She couldn’t stop thinking about what he would feel like inside her. The thick, hot shaft made her ache so perfectly. 

The deep grey orbs traveled up his heaving form, meeting the sated green eyes with a warm smile.

“I have never enjoyed watching a man come so much in my life.” She giggled, sliding her hand back up the softening member. 

Raymond inhaled a shuddering gasp as her soft fingers traversed his over-sensitized flesh.

He kissed her sensually, stepping them back under the shower’s spray. His large hands rubbed her with more of the rich lather, cleansing her of his essence as they settled into a sleepy, sated, and comforting quiet.

****************************************************************************************************

Rosalie reluctantly headed for her room after they ascended the stairs and she kissed Red goodnight.

He had wanted to ask her to stay with him, but wasn’t sure if she needed her space. After such an intense sexual encounter, Raymond would have preferred to spend the rest of the night curled up naked in his bed with Rosalie’s feminine frame pressed tightly against him. They could have slept, talked, perhaps engaged in a repeat of their activities in the grotto… 

He recalled, however, that Dembe was ready with their little plan, so he supposed he could wait one more day to have that time with her. 

The man tried to shake the slight feeling of disappointment as he climbed into the empty bed, falling into an uneasy sleep.

Down the hall, Rosalie couldn’t rid herself of the desire to go back to the master suite. She hadn’t been able to tell if Raymond wanted to be alone or if he wanted her to stay. She knew which she preferred, but had instead kissed him and headed for her own room. 

As Rosalie settled in the annoyingly spacious bed, her mind wandered to the man’s scars. She had the distinct feeling something terrible had happened, and secretly wished he could confide the truth in her. An unpleasant melancholy settled over the woman as she lay awake in the dark, her mind roaring with thoughts of the man down the hall.

Red was dreaming of the fire. He supposed it was to be expected, after having to address the subject with Rosalie.

His unconscious mind went hurtling back to that night and pulled together the hazy images of what happened. He felt the pain, the unbelievable, searing pain. The fear. The betrayal. It all came roaring back. 

He had been so certain he would die that night. He had felt death closing in on him, not knowing he’d be outwitting it every day afterward. He had felt so angry and betrayed.

A flash of red and a dark, smoky closet. An adult voice… They needed to be heard, or they would both die. They would never be found, and Rosalie would never know… 

“You have to scream. Do you hear me? As loud as you can, you have to scream!”

A piercing cry, like that of a small child, echoed in his skull, the man sat up sharply. 

All the blood came rushing to Raymond’s head, making his brain swim as he gasped, a prickling sensation rippling over his sweat-soaked back. He took in heaving lungfuls of air, working to try and calm his hammering heart rate.

“ _Aw, hell.”_ He groused, looking at the clock to find it had only been thirty minutes since he had laid down.

Once calmed, the man stood and reluctantly headed for the shower. It was going to be a long night.

He stood under the pounding spray, attempting to rinse off the filth and nastiness of the dream.

It had been years since he’d had a nightmare about that night. They were always so real, Red typically remained shaken for a couple days.

The water swirled at his feet, circling the drain lazily as the man tried to reconcile the feelings of vulnerability the dream had awoken.

Stepping out of the steamy en-suite, the man again considered seeking out his lover. He deeply desired the comfort of her embrace. The insecurities of a new relationship washed over him, not wanting to push too far, too soon. Rosalie was likely already asleep, he shouldn’t bother her with this. And yet… 

Raymond looked wearily in the mirror, suddenly realizing how terribly tired he was of hiding himself. Secrets were exhausting, and he already had enough to last him a lifetime. 

His decision cast, the man strode quietly into the hall in naught but his sleep pants. He could already hear Rosalie tossing and turning in the alcove of her bedroom. The man rounded the corner of the arched doorway to see her sprawled on her stomach, honey tresses in a riot of curls down her back. The very sight of her somehow calmed him. 

The woman was as restless as he, letting out a huff of frustration and kicking the blankets toward the foot of the bed. She didn’t realize Red was there. “Get over it, Rosalie.” She grumbled to herself, tugging a pillow and prodding it aggressively before curling up again.

Red’s expression softened, a wave of empathy consuming him. The sexual release they had enjoyed in the grotto had been spectacular, but had left them both wanting for something deeper. Separating to their respective rooms afterward only exacerbated the problem. They had been foolish not to discuss their needs.

He reached out to touch her, wanting to pull her close.

Rosalie jumped at the sensation of a hand on her leg, only to recognize the warm, gentle grasp seconds later. Raymond’s weight indented the bed as he crawled up her splayed form. The scent which was uniquely him permeated the air around her, replacing her agitation with a mix of comfort and desire.

Raymond watched her body relax into his encompassing warmth as he settled over her. He dropped featherlight kisses up her spine, smiling softly when Rosalie arched like a graceful feline, seeking more of his attention. His large hands were pinned on either side of her golden head, creating a loving cocoon around her.

The woman’s soft hands covered his, threading the slender fingers through his masculine ones. Both let out a sigh of appreciation at the connection, and the feel of Red’s weight settling on top of her.

“Just for tonight?” He asked, dipping to trace her shoulder with the tip of his nose.

Rosalie breathed a sigh of relief, turning on her side and cupping Raymond’s cheek. “Please.” She whispered, stroking his stubble, with her thumb.

Raymond reached to open the window beside the bed, allowing the cool ocean breeze into the warm space. He settled on his side, drawing his companion tightly against him.

The young innkeeper hitched her leg over his hip, wriggling closer to his comforting embrace.

Red leaned in, brushing his nose against hers as he ran his fingers through her damp curls.

Rosalie leaned into his touch, brushing her lips gently against his.

They settled into a companionable silence, but Rosalie could feel something hanging in the air, waiting for Raymond to give it voice.

“It was a frigid night.” He murmured, green eyes turning cold and distant. “The kind of night where the wind howled and the fire in the hearth felt as comforting as a mother’s embrace.”

Red remembered the dream as it played out in his mind. “The Cabal was searching for an item which could destroy them, believing it to be in the hands of Raymond Reddington.” 

A little red night dress could be seen scurrying behind a white door. “There was a little girl in the house. She was hiding so she wouldn’t be found.” 

He saw dark figures barging into the house, the woman had brought them with her, the men recognized each other. “There was a fight,” whispered Raymond, his body tensing unconsciously.

Rosalie reached to grasp his hand in hers, stroking her thumb over his palm in a comforting manner. The deep grey eyes watched him, spellbound as she hung on his every word.

The gesture soothed Red, his own eyes tilted to hers. “It all happened so fast, she couldn’t have known. There should never have been a gun within her reach.” 

A warm hand reached up to stroke his cheek. Rosalie nodded her understanding, beckoning him to continue.

“Elizabeth,” he murmured, hanging his head dejectedly.

“Elizabeth?” Rosalie asked, having never heard him mention the name before. 

Raymond nodded painfully, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “She was so small, so young. She didn’t know, but her mother…” The man’s breathing sped up, a snarl just barely visible on his upper lip.

His lover leaned in, gently kissing the angry expression from his lips.

Red brushed his nose with hers, needing the warmth of her affection.

“I was wounded, dying.” His voice grew soft, stilted as his own recollections grew fuzzy.

“A fire started, the Cabal was sure the item they sought was in the home, likely thought if it burned to the ground, there would no longer be a threat.”

A grimace took over the man’s features. “But _Elizabeth_ was still in the house, hiding. I crawled over to where she was. I called through the door. Told her she had to scream, had to let them know she was still there.”

The piercing scream echoed through the intervening years, along with the sound of heeled boots meeting a wooden floor.

“I watched as her mother gathered her in her arms and walked out. I called for her… called for help. Then the world went black.”

Rosalie held him tightly, horror struck at the tale. Her stomach plummeted, her empathetic nature screamed at her to do something, anything to comfort the man in her arms.

They both lay there several long moments, Raymond soothing the raw corners of his soul with Rosalie’s embrace, Rosalie attempting to put together the pieces of what Raymond had told her. 

The man could sense the question in the air, waiting for her to inevitably ask it, and for her inevitable disappointment when he could not answer.

When Rosalie finally spoke, it was not at all the question Red had expected.

“Who helped you?” She asked softly, her heart aching for the man cradled in her arms.

“What?” He asked, obviously taken aback.

“Who helped you recover after all of this?” She questioned, her brow furrowed in concern.

“...I was a newly minted fugitive at the time, I didn’t have a place to go. I certainly didn’t have the resources I have now. Someone dragged my body from the fire, but that’s all I really know.” He shrugged it off, but Rosalie was deeply distraught.

“There was no one to take care of you?” She questioned incredulously, a pang of compassion gripping her insides.

“No.” Raymond murmured, the truth coming to him reluctantly, “There was no one. An acquaintance took me and dropped me at a hospital in the underground, after that, I was on my own.”

He felt the little frame tighten around him. He rested his cheek on her golden curls, taking comfort in her proximity. Rosalie lay holding him gently, and the man understood it wasn’t pity she was feeling for him. 

This was the gentle caress of a lover, someone who realized how lonely he must have been, how much pain he must have endured. The woman wanted to understand this side of him and how it had made him who he is. She was kissing him, cradling him close because she wanted to comfort him. She wanted desperately to soothe the part of him which was still that man, broken, burned, and abandoned on a frigid night.

Red had never truly spoken to anyone about the night Raymond Reddington died. 

Dembe knew as far as what happened and why, and there was certainly a great level of care and compassion there, but Raymond had never had someone of his own to truly give a damn about what had happened to him.

Yet here was Rosalie, adamant on talking it through with him. 

The man nuzzled her affectionately, basking in the comfort she willingly gave.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.” She whispered, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. She couldn’t imagine leaving an innocent man to die in front of her. Especially someone like Raymond, who was kind and thoughtful and affectionate. How could those people do such a thing? The thought did not sit well with her at all.

A cloud above moved, bathing them in moonlight, and Raymond could make out a dark, cold look in the woman’s eyes.

Rosalie was angry. 

“You asked me if I trusted you to do anything you felt necessary to keep me safe.” she recalled, “Do you trust me to do the same for you?” Her tone was firm and demanding, endearingly impassioned.

“Rosalie you don’t have to-”

“I know damn well I don’t have to.” She retorted heatedly, “But this isn’t going to be a one-sided relationship, Raymond.”

His eyebrows rose at her conviction, it seemed the tale had struck a nerve.

Rosalie shifted so she was astride his hips. Her small hands traced his torso, searching for her target in the faint moonlight.

She found the small bullet wound hidden in his chest hair, the raised scar bringing a snarl to her mouth. 

Red watched as she leaned, to place a loving kiss to the circular wound, her warm fingertips settling on top of it as she sat up.

“You don’t get to give endlessly of yourself for the sake of someone’s affection.” She murmured angrily, “You should know they are in your corner, willing to give just as much, to be there when you need them.” 

The dark gaze met his. “I’m not just some lovebird who will hang on your arm and make you care about me only to bail when our life becomes complicated.”

The woman had garnered much more from Red’s confession than he had anticipated. Rosalie deduced there were others involved, and she was livid with them for leaving him behind.

“I just don’t understand how someone could do such a thing. To you, of all people.” She huffed, the bemused scowl on her features amusing the man beneath her.

He chuckled indelicately, caressing her thighs in languid strokes. “Rosalie, I’m far from a saint, I can think of at least a dozen hardened criminals who would gladly have my head.”

She dropped her gaze, her tone apologetic. 

“Raymond, it wasn’t one of your rivals who did this. I can tell by the way you spoke, this was someone whom you loved, or at the very least deeply admired.” 

His amusement faltered slightly as she cut to the quick of the matter. 

Red had long since come to terms with what happened to him that night, the betrayal he had suffered. Rosalie, however, was new to the entire altercation, and the tale made her absolutely furious.

The criminal in him snarled his pride, delighting in the fury which was cradled in the loving grey eyes, seeing a confidant, a partner, so much more than a lover in the woman before him. 

Raymond rolled, taking Rosalie and pinning her beneath him as he memorized her fiery features.

He understood the anger, the darkness which flooded her, because it was the same darkness which resided in him.

Rosalie attempted to pull herself from his grasp, her temper getting the better of her. She needed a moment to cool down. 

Raymond recognized the towering fury to which Florian and Horace had always referred. He was determined not to let her walk out as she had in Munich. He wanted to see the depths of the criminal prowling beneath her surface. 

“I need a minute,” she grumbled, attempting to wriggle free.

“No,” Red stated simply, his strong arms pinning her even more tightly.

“Raymond,” She gritted, the emotions licking at her insides like an open flame, “I don’t want to fight with you.”

A deep, soothing drawl filled her ears. “You’re not fighting with me, Rosalie. You’re telling me all about what kind of lover you will be, and I, for one, am dying to hear every last word.”

“W-what?” She sputtered, trying like hell to squelch her internal seething.

“You’re angry, little dove, let it out. _Let me see her_.” He murmured, thrilling in the tremor of emotion which skirted her small frame.

Red’s eyes were dark as he stared down his little lover. “Tell me how you’re going to be better than her, better than the person who betrayed me and left me for dead. I know that’s what you’re thinking.” 

A vicious and discontented corner of Red’s soul flared to vivid life, recalling a petite frame and long red hair. 

His mind readily supplied the image of the vibrant blonde standing toe to toe with the woman from his past. Raymond saw the all-encompassing warmth of Rosalie Øllegaard clash with the cool frigidity of Katarina Rostova. The differences between the two were startling. 

Rosalie actually growled beneath him. The little hellcat was stronger than she looked, somehow managing to twist and pin Raymond beneath her.

He felt somewhat guilty for being as pleased as he was.

Was it really so bad, for her to care? It was a selfish thought, yet Raymond found himself basking in the comfort and empathy as well as the outrage and anger which radiated from his lover. For once he had someone furious on his behalf.

The man’s towering build pitched forward, taking Rosalie to her back, wedging himself firmly between her thighs.

“You promised I’d have the hidden parts of you.” Red reminded, dipping to nuzzle her neck, his lips trailing a burning path from her shoulder to her jaw before resting against the shell of her ear. “ _Let her out_ , I want to meet this hellcat I’ve heard so much about.” He purred, “I’ve only gotten glimpses of her, little dove, but I want to revel in her fire.”

Rosalie trembled in his arms, the feel of his hot breath against her ear, murmuring so ardently to her, using that favored endearment, it shook her to her foundations. She had encountered very few people who could tolerate her temper, let alone find any redeeming qualities in it. She was hesitant to show Red this side of her, afraid he would not like what he saw.

Her mind pushed at her. Rosalie had promised he would have her, in her entirety. She promised.

“I hate whomever did this to you.” She ground out, trying to drop her carefully constructed walls for him. It was difficult, her body felt like it was fighting her mind, refusing to give in. She tightened around him, needing his stability.

Raymond settled more of his weight on her slender frame, providing her the comfort and solidity she desired. His fingertips dragged gently along her skin, sending goosebumps down her body. “Keep going, sweetheart.” He coaxed, ears pricked to hear what she had to say.

Rosalie didn’t know why, but she desperately needed him to know, to understand. If there was anything of which he could be absolutely certain in regards to her, it was that she would never, ever allow something like this to happen to him again.

She also needed him to understand that he should never, ever tell her who was responsible for it.

Rosalie was certain she wouldn’t rest until they were dead.

Her mind’s own conviction frightened her a little. The murderous temper for which she was quietly known crackled in the far-flung corners of her mind. The criminal within her was already analyzing every word he said, looking for the holes through which to garner the culprits’ names.

Rosalie grimaced, shaking the notion from her mind. She told him his name didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to go looking into his past simply for the sake of tearing apart those responsible.

Raymond saw the emotions play out on her face, watching enchanted as her clever mind sifted through the information he had given her. She needed a distraction, or the criminal side of her was going to go hunting. He knew the signs all too well.

“Tell me what you’ll be, darling, tell me what kind of lover I’ve taken.” He crooned, dropping his hand to the hem of her silk shorts, stroking the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

The touch derailed Rosalie’s criminal thoughts, forcing her to focus on Red alone.

“I’ll be loving,” she whispered, placing a hand on his chest. “I’ll trust you, in all things. I’ll put your needs before my own, because I know damn well you’ll do the same for me.”

Red nodded his agreement, taking the hand on his chest and kissing the appendage affectionately.

“I’ll be your friend and your secret keeper.” She murmured, sitting up so she could be closer to him.

“I’ll be your lover in more than just the physical sense. You’ll have my affection, my playfulness, my pleasure.”

The criminal within Raymond listened intently, waiting for what he needed to hear

“I will be yours, Raymond.” The dark eyes swam with her conviction, not looking away from the man towering over her. “You’re right, I won’t be like her, whomever she was. I’ll never allow such a thing to happen to you. You’ll know you have my protection, just as I know I have yours.”

Rosalie implored him to understand. “I’m pursuing a relationship with you, Raymond. Do you have any idea what that means to me? I don’t date because men are fickle and unkind, and they don’t…” She hesitated, the truth hitting far too close to home.

Raymond stroked her encouragingly, recognizing she was gifting him with something deeply personal.

“Ray-” Her voice shook tremulously, trying to quell the inferno of emotions which had been stirred by their discussion. “They don’t like the dark spots in my soul. They try to tame me or change me and I can’t let them have me. I’m so tired of hiding myself away. I’ve wanted someone as dark and wild as I am, someone who understands.”

Oh, he understood. Red knew exactly what she meant. The fathoms deep fury in her beckoned to him, speaking lovingly to the parts of Raymond which were forged in that fire. If she sought someone to understand her duality, Rosalie need look no further than the man kneeling before her.

“I like to think I’ve found that someone in you.” She continued, “Knowing the way I see you, the way I feel for you, it makes me vulnerable. Because if I am to be your lover, then you will have the very best of me.”

Her soft, warm hands reached to cradle Red’s face. “Unlike the woman who left you in that fire, I don’t have it in me to take the best of myself from you. I don’t have it in me to leave someone I loved to die before my very eyes.”

Raymond’s eyes closed serenely at hearing everything he had desperately needed to hear, working to memorize it down to the last detail. He had known what kind of lover she would be, but to hear the words from her mouth, it was a reassurance which Red would remember until his dying day.

The comfort of her honesty created a deep, burning need within her lover.

The hand stroking her thigh slipped deftly beneath the hem of her shorts, tugging them away from what he needed in one swift movement.

Rosalie gasped her surprise, the noise turning to an astonished moan as Red’s fingers immediately set to teasing her already aching sex.

The man couldn’t explain why he so desperately needed to touch her. All he knew was the sensation of her body bowing in ecstasy was the only thing which might soothe the ache in his soul.

His coaxing brought her to the edge rapidly, demanding the trembling form give in to the onslaught.

Raymond was rewarded seconds later as her tight heat gripped his digits and his lover nearly screamed her pleasure.

Rosalie grasped his biceps as she rode out the intense orgasm, her hips bucking into each stroke of her g spot.

The man found his body rumbling with a delectable ache. A savagely pleasurable thought occurred to him as the woman keened beneath him, her nails biting into the mottled flesh of his shoulders.

This was how Raymond would rid himself of that night.

He would take this woman, love her so damn well, so damn often, the only marks left on him would be the evidence of their lovemaking.

He would gather the remnants of that horrid memory and replace each and every second with memories of her. Memories of nights spent in wild passion and trembling lust.

She was his.

His pain would be replaced by her pleasure.

His fear would give way to her comforting embrace.

Her affection and understanding would wipe away the loneliness.

The betrayal would find no purchase in her love.

Raymond made no mistakes, she would love him.

Just as he was certain he was already falling in love with her.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: Alone
> 
> Rosalie turned around in utmost confusion. 
> 
> Raymond stood at the front, straight-backed and confident with his hands clasped together in front of him. His green eyes gazed in ardent affection at Rosalie, making her stomach flip.
> 
> “I hope you don’t mind the subterfuge,” he said in his warm baritone, “I’ve been dying to have you to myself since the day we met.”


	17. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening - Movement by Hozier
> 
> If you're looking for plot...This is not your chapter, darling.
> 
> To everyone who's stuck with me this far, thank you for your patience with this very slow burn. I think you'll find this chapter and the following one well worth the wait ;)
> 
> As always, I love to hear your comments!

_Hillside Safehouse - July 6th, 1999 - Vouliagmeni, Greece_

The following morning found Raymond and Rosalie ensconced in the alcove bedroom, pointedly avoiding the rest of the world.

The two had fallen asleep in a tangle of limbs, exhausted from their late night confessions and vigorous play time. 

Red’s face lay buried in Rosalie’s neck, breathing in the scent of warm, soft female as he slowly awoke. 

The only sounds disturbing the quiet of the room came from the open window, through which the call of seagulls and crashing waves could be heard.

The man’s hand slid surreptitiously beneath the waistband of her silk shirts, cradling the little mound of her sex in a gentle grasp.

Rosalie woke at the sensation, wriggling in his grasp. She grumbled, realizing they didn’t have any time for tomfoolery that morning. 

Raymond had a meeting with Stratos and some associates, while she had a property manager in Jakarta who needed to be dealt with.

Red kissed her neck, dipping a lone digit into her slick heat, enjoying the pleased mew that tumbled from her mouth. “Good morning, my dear.”

Rosalie reached behind her, wrapping a small hand around his unsurprisingly hard shaft. “It certainly _is_ a good morning.” She giggled, pumping the thick appendage experimentally.  

He rocked into her ministrations, a deep growl rumbling through his chest. 

The pair settled into their enjoyable pastimes, setting a slow, lazy rhythm to lose themselves in.

Rosalie had just started to quiver against Red's talented fingers when a knock sounded from the arched door.

"Go away."

"Get out."

The pair had spoken at the same time, their displeasure at being interrupted quite evident. 

A head of dark black hair appeared in the door way, petulant eyebrows raised at the less than friendly greeting. "If you intend to deal with the issue in Jakarta, I have Cipta on the line. I would deal with it myself, but you know he'll only speak to you."

Rosalie sighed her frustration, "I'll be up in two minutes." She met Horace's eyes pointedly, indicating he should leave.

The bodyguard snorted with laughter and shook his head, stepping out of the room. " _Honestly, it's like living with a pair of teenagers."_ He grumbled beneath his breath.

"I really, really have to deal with this." She murmured apologetically, looking into Red's eyes.

The man smiled warmly, "I should say so, you've been putting it off for weeks."

"You do know, I would much rather stay here, with you, right?" She asked needing the confirmation in this instance.

Raymond's eyes softened for her concern. "Yes, I do know that." He murmured fondly, "Don't worry about it, Rosalie, we will find our time together."

He seemed so confident, so perfectly assured, Rosalie wondered how he managed such an outlook as a career criminal. A smile broke across her lips in the next moment as she realized that was simply who the man was. Confident, swaggering, and, much to Rosalie's distraction, devilishly handsome. She kissed him soundly, running her warm hands down his chest once before reluctantly scurrying from the room to handle her business.

Red's eyes followed her out the door, sighing contentedly as he stretched the remnants of sleep from his limbs. He could afford to be overtly optimistic today. His plans would be in action before the morning was out.

************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

An hour later, Raymond was showered, dressed, and heading out on a business deal with Stratos. He had just stepped out of his room when he watched the spritely innkeeper striding back into hers.

She looked coyly back at him, winking before stepping out of sight.

Raymond lingered in the doorway, waiting for the sound of her recognition. He had taken delivery of another flower arrangement while she was busy with her associate. He didn’t have to wait long as he heard a telltale gasp issue from the woman’s bedroom. A soft smile lit his features and he chuckled to himself before donning his fedora and heading upstairs.

In the window of Rosalie’s room was perched a heavy crystal vase laden with voluminous hydrangeas. The bulging clusters of petals were a light purple bordering on periwinkle.

Rosalie cooed her appreciation, pulling the book on flowers from her bag and turning to the necessary page. She read through the passage, a secret smile lighting her features.

Hydrangeas were often considered a symbol of vanity or frigidity, unless, of course, they were purple. 

Purple hydrangeas were quite particular in their meaning, representing a gratefulness for being understood and a desire to more deeply understand the recipient.

The thought made Rosalie squirm, recalling the late night she’d had with Raymond quite clearly.

He had shared so much with her, much more than she had expected. It had been a heartbreaking revelation, one which angered and upset her, but the woman knew without question his honesty had brought them closer. 

The way he told it, to know this piece of Raymond was to know one of the darkest periods of the man’s life. Such trust and sincerity was not easily won, especially from a man like Reddington.

Their amorousness aside, Rosalie had felt their connection grow and strengthen in the quiet of the alcove bedroom. Raymond felt it too, and appreciated the understanding she offered him.

The little woman blushed when she recalled how her temper had gotten the better of her when confronted with the truth behind the man's scars. Raymond had tried to coax that side of her closer to the surface, had wanted to see the darker corners of her personality. The request had made her nervous and more than a bit self-conscious at first. Was that what he meant by the hydrangeas, a desire to better understand the closely guarded aspects of herself? Only time would tell, she supposed. In the meantime, Rosalie would simply work harder to open that side of herself to Raymond, allowing him to see the parts which she guarded most carefully.

************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

A few hours later, Rosalie finished her business for the day. The work had been enjoyable, but she was truthfully in the mood to relax with a certain fugitive. An idea struck her suddenly, and she found herself dialing the man's number without thought.

Raymond and Stratos had just put ink to paper on a new shipping opportunity when Dembe passed the former a satellite phone.

He grasped the item and took the call. “Hello?” He crooned. 

“Yes, is this the concierge’s desk?” Rosalie asked, her tone carefree and playful.

A smirk, snuck across Red’s face as he turned away from his cohorts. “It certainly is, madam, what can I do for you?” He fell into the role readily, eager to hear her desires.

“Hmm…” She hummed indecisively, casually pacing about the property. “Well, you see, this art gallery is having a showing, for charity purposes, you see.”

“Oh yes,” he agreed, moving toward the unlocked town car, “And what is it you require for such an occasion?”

“I’m looking for a date, someone dashing and devil-may-care.” She sighed wistfully, “Well-traveled, with better taste in wine than me.”

“I see,” he replied genially, listening to her rather amusing criteria. “Any other requests of this mystery man? A fondness for skulduggery, perhaps?”

Rosalie’s nose scrunched and a wide grin illuminated her features. _Damn him_ , he was very good at this. She hurriedly schooled her voice back to something more formal. “Yes, that is certainly a must.” 

She added in a serious tone, “Oh, and his attire is important too.”

“Oh?” Red asked, surprised, “Madam, I had no idea you were such a fashion snob.” His tone was only a little chiding, making her hold the phone away from her mouth as she sniggered.

“Oh yes,” the feminine voice dropped to a low, sultry purr. “You see, I just can’t control myself around a man in a three piece suit.”

“A three piece suit, you say? What is it about such an item that drives your little heart wild?” he questioned, slipping into the backseat of the vehicle, wanting to hear more about this particular requisite.

A soft humm carried through the connection. “I think it’s all those buttons.”

He could hear the mischief in her voice as she continued thoughtfully, “I can just see myself undoing each and every one, it’s like unwrapping a present meant for my eyes alone.”

Red’s head fell back into the headrest with a sigh, thanking every deity he could think of for his good fortune. The tone of her voice mixed with the delightful image of her squirming with lust, playing with the buttons of his suit the way she liked. The thought created a sizeable issue in the man’s slacks, one he longed to share with her.

“Ah, well, that is a tall order.” He said softly in an attempt to hide the blatant arousal in his voice. 

She could still hear it, however. 

“I might have someone for you.” Eluded Raymond, purposefully giving her little to go off of.

The teasing hellcat continued, perfectly undaunted. “Is he clever? Can he dance?” Her voice slid effortlessly into a sensual undertone, “Will he talk dirty to me?”

“ _Fuck me_.” Raymond grunted his head hitting the headrest again as he dropped a hand to adjust his aching rod.

“That’s more like it,” giggled Rosalie, “I think I’ve been extraordinarily patient, don’t you?” 

“Mmm…” groaned Red, easing some of the tension in his trousers. “I think you and I have different definitions of patience.” He chuckled, thinking of all the times she had teased him over the past week.

“I said I’ve been _patient_ , I never said I was well-behaved.” 

The sensual tone of Rosalie’s voice made him erupt in goosebumps. The pint-sized tyrant was bound and determined to get him on his knees, ready to give in to his desire for her. The feminine voice giggled mischievously, coaxing a wide grin to his mouth. 

Raymond was more than willing to bend the knee. 

He burned with want when she was around, could hardly sleep for the wild and erotic dreams which plagued him in the night. He needed her just as badly as she needed him.

“Why don’t we meet for lunch?” he asked, needing to steer the conversation to safer waters. He was certain his body would implode if she teased him much further.

Rosalie allowed the distraction for the time being, smiling softly to herself. “That sounds, lovely, actually.”

“Let’s ditch the guards while we’re at it.” 

A melodic laugh carried through the connection, “Playing hooky again, are we?” She questioned, her body responding to the very thought of the grotto below.

“Yes,” Red nodded, a sly smile taking over his face. 

 _They were going to play hooky, alright_.

Rosalie hummed contentedly, unaware of the devious look gracing the man’s features. “Where should I meet you?”

“Dembe and I are on our way back to the house now. Does Hillside have a hidden exit?” He dropped his voice to a quiet murmur as the others entered the vehicle.

“Yes, it leads out to the car port.”

“Perfect. I’ll meet you there in twenty.” 

Rosalie sniggered, “What about the car?”

“You let me deal with that.” Advised Red, an idea coming readily to mind.

****************************************************************************************************

Twenty minutes later, Rosalie made her way through the hidden exit tucked behind a massive mirror in the house's lounge. She ascended a long set of stone steps into what was once a tall tool chest. The empty cabinet now served as a hidden entrance, hiding the young woman from sight as the sound of a purring engine filled the car port. 

Heavy car doors could be heard closing, the noise echoing in the small space. 

Rosalie carefully peeked through the crack in the door to see Raymond and his entourage exiting the vehicle. She heard the man’s voice calling to his bodyguard.

“Aw hell, Dembe, hand me the keys, I left my hat in the car.”

The jingling sound of car keys could be heard as they were lobbed into the air. Red snagged them with deft fingers, slowly meandering back to the vehicle.

“A little dove told me you were in need of a hot date?” He called softly into the car port, waiting for the woman to make herself known.

The cabinet door shifted minutely, a feminine frame slipping out of the small space, all smiles for their bit of skullduggery.

Red waggled playful brows at her, and the couple hurriedly boarded the waiting sedan.

Raymond kept the engine as silent as possible while he pulled from the drive, trying not to alert anyone to their escape.

Rosalie sniggered merrily beside him, keeping a close eye on the front door.

Red punched the accelerator as soon as they reached the road, tearing through the countryside with impressive speed.

“Alone at last.” He grinned boyishly, grasping the woman’s hand and bringing it up to his lips.

Rosalie gripped him tightly as the vehicle was put through its paces. “Raymond, this speed is a felony in most countries.” She reminded, smiling in spite of herself.

The man continued to floor it, flashing her a look of utmost innocence. “All the intrigue listed on my criminal record, and you’re concerned about adding _speeding_ to the list?”

They both sniggered at the joke, Red’s cavalier attitude effectively soothing the woman.

As they rounded another corner, a pin-prick black dot appeared on the horizon in the rear-view mirror. Red squinted at the image before executing another turn. “I have somewhere special in mind for today. The faster we get there, the more time we’ll have to ourselves.”

“Well, in that case, you’re going entirely too slow.” Joked Rosalie, appalled when Raymond smirked and pushed the sedan further.

When the landscape started hurtling by at breakneck speeds, however, she glanced surreptitiously up at him. She trusted in the man’s abilities, certainly, but something in his demeanor had changed. Red’s amusement had been replaced with a deep scowl, his shoulders were tensed, and Rosalie could see his jaw ticking irritably.

“Is everything alright, Raymond?” She asked, confused as to what could have brought about such a sudden change.

His eyes flitted rapidly between the road and the rear-view mirror. “We’re being followed.” He murmured darkly.

The speck he had seen had grown into a jet black suv, which was rapidly gaining on their position despite the sedan’s speed.

“You’re certain there were no other cars at the house?” Raymond asked, eyes still swiveling between the road and their tail.

“Positive,” said Rosalie, eyes narrowing at the dark vehicle. “I didn’t have my associates bring alternative transport.” 

She whipped out a satellite phone, quickly dialing the appropriate number.

“Where the bloody hell are you?” Came Horace’s sullen voice. 

Rosalie’s lips pursed, “You’re not in the suv behind us, are you.” She didn’t even need to ask, the tone of his voice was confirmation enough.

“The suv behind you? What do you-”

Rosalie could hear the sound of a heavy door opening on the other line. Horace was in the house’s driveway.

“Where are you?” He reiterated, seething at the empty car port. 

“Ten minutes south of the house.” Rosalie confessed, “It seems we have a tail.”

“I can’t get to you, there’s no vehicle.” Gritted her guard, looking stoically toward the horizon.

Rosalie cast a sidelong glance at Raymond, “This could be the same issue we had in D.C.”

The man nodded curtly, thinking the same thing.

“We’ll head toward the airport.” Rosalie decided, a plan rapidly taking shape in her mind.

“Without security?” Questioned Horace, disliking the idea immensely.

“If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.” She sighed, “Call the property manager, he can outfit you with a vehicle and you can meet us at the hangar. There are several viable sites on the continent, we need to go dark.”

“Which one?” Horace asked heading inside to initiate the blacksite protocols.

Rosalie’s eyes widened as the suv made a sudden run for their left side. “If they sideswipe us here, we’ll go off the edge of the cliff.” 

“Not likely,” growled Raymond, veering to cut off the opposing vehicle. “I think they have something else in mind.”

Rosalie’s eyes followed his to the rear-view mirror, where she could see a glove-covered hand reaching out of the driver’s side window. She just registered the glint of shining metal before shots began to rain down on them.

The sound of bullets pinging off the sedan’s surface echoed through the phone as Horace tore through the safehouse in search of Rosalie’s black book.

“Horace, grab Dembe and Stratos and get out of there!” She shouted over the din, astonished the windows hadn’t been blown out yet. “We will hold them off until you can meet us at the plane!”

The call dropped just as the bodyguard came up empty handed, unable to find the list of blacksites anywhere. The man was further concerned to find Rosalie’s belongings missing. He checked the master suite and found the same was true of Reddington’s. He became more worried as he scoured the house for clues. What made the man’s stomach truly plummet, however, was discovering the absence of Dembe Zuma.

In the runaway sedan, Raymond was doing everything in his power to dodge the barrage of bullets while remaining on the road. The tires squealed and the engine roared as they hurtled through the outskirts of Athens. Safely away from the coastline, the man could afford to be a bit more aggressive with his driving. The car easily outstripped the cumbersome suv, but wasn’t quite fast enough to outpace the firearm.

Rosalie dialed the phone again, “Edward, we need to issue blacksite protocols. Can you have the plane ready to go in ten?” 

Red heard the man’s confirmation and took a hairpin turn at speed to cut across the city.

"We'll take Blacksite 9, it's in Cairo." Rosalie told the man assuredly.

"How will we know how to get there?" Asked Raymond quietly.

The woman placed a hand over the receiver. "I have the coordinates memorized for each and every safehouse." She stated matter-of-factly.

Red looked surprised and impressed by this new information, allowing her to finish their logistics without further questions.

Once their flight plans were confirmed, Rosalie ended the call, snapping the phone in two and tossing the remnants out the window before looking apologetically at her counterpart. “I’m sorry, Raymond.”

The man glanced up at her, his expression puzzled. “What on earth do you have to be sorry for?” 

“We keep getting found, and I just have a feeling it’s an issue in my network.” She shook her head, trying to sift through what they could have done to blow this location. Yet another one of her safehouses was compromised. “Dembe, Horace, and Stratos are in danger now. They’re sitting ducks because I didn’t think we needed contingency transportation.” The woman would never forgive herself if something happened to them because of this mistake.

Raymond reached over to grasp her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I find it best not to assume the worst until all the information has revealed itself.”

Rosalie sighed at the cryptic remark, her disappointment turning quickly to frustration. “We should just stop in the road here and fire on him. It’s only one guy.” She was thinking of their guards and Stratos, who would have a significantly easier time getting to the plane if the threat was neutralized.

Red’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, whipping the car into the airport hangar. He stopped alongside the jet, reaching over to Rosalie and snatching her gun from its holster.

“Hey!” She grumbled, trying to take back the firearm.

“Go.” Red commanded, gesturing toward the jet. His expression was kind, but it brooked no argument.

Rosalie scowled at him a moment before stepping out of the sedan. She took the steps quickly, striding into the cool quiet of the plane with Raymond right behind her. The cabin was dark as he closed the door with a heavy _thud_.

“Wheels up, Edward.” He called, knocking twice on the cabin door. 

“Wheels up, Boss.” Edward confirmed, lighting up the cabin.

Rosalie was standing next to her usual seat when the space was flooded with warm light.

The scene which greeted her was utterly baffling.

Darla, Raymond’s stewardess, was nowhere to be found. The two tables in the main cabin held beautifully intricate floral arrangements of exotic plum orchids and delicate green bells of Ireland. The heavenly scent of Mediterranean fare hung in the air, growing stronger as Rosalie walked in a daze toward the back of the plane. 

Two wine glasses stood at the bar beside a heavy crystal decanter which already held a dark burgundy liquid. Another bottle stood alongside it, waiting patiently to be uncorked.

“...What is this?” Rosalie wondered aloud, trying to assimilate what was going on.

As her footsteps reached the back of the plane, she saw hers and Raymond’s overnight bags tucked safely in their usual spots. Horace and Dembe’s were noticeably missing.

Red watched her, excitement thrumming in his very bones. He quietly started the record player, the dulcet tones of a jazz quintet echoing from the stereo as his focus returned to the woman walking the plane.

Rosalie turned around in utmost confusion. 

Raymond stood at the front, straight-backed and confident with his hands clasped together in front of him. His green eyes gazed in ardent affection at her, making the woman’s stomach flip. 

“I hope you don’t mind the subterfuge,” he said in his warm baritone, “I’ve been dying to have you to myself since the day we met.” 

**************************************************************************************************

“You did all of this?” Rosalie asked, her voice laced with shock.

“With a little assistance.” Red conceded, glancing out the window.

The black suv which had been chasing them hurtled into the hangar and parked. 

Rosalie gasped when who should exit the driver’s side, but Dembe.

The young man could see his friend’s bemused expression through the plane’s rear window. He grinned broadly, flashing the pellet gun he had been using to terrorize them. The grin turned into a full belly laugh when Rosalie’s mouth gaped in open incredulity.

“ _That’s_ why the windows weren’t blown out.” She gasped, narrowing her eyes at the minuscule firearm. 

Dembe gave Raymond a small nod and a friendly wave as the jet started to taxi.

The older man waved his gratitude to his young friend. He deserved a substantial raise. No one could have pulled off this bit of trickery even half as flawlessly in such a short amount of time.

Rosalie followed the bodyguard with her eyes until the plane was out of the hangar and pulling onto the tarmac.

Red poured them each a glass of wine. “He and Horace are going to enjoy a well-deserved week off with Stratos, while you and I get an uninterrupted getaway in Norway.”

“Norway?” She questioned, confused as to how the man came to such a conclusion.

“That’s the blacksite we’re heading to, I planned it all out with Dembe.”

“Are you telling me this was all a ruse? You orchestrated all of it?” Rosalie questioned, completely aghast.

“Yes.” Admitted Raymond, rather proud of the trick, truth be told. 

Rosalie took the glass he offered, her expression still questioning. “The safehouse really isn’t compromised?” She whispered, looking imploringly at him. 

“No, my dear, the house is perfectly secure, Dembe and the others are perfectly safe.” He promised, eyes softening as the woman’s eyes nearly watered in relief.

“Why?” The question left her lips before she could subdue it. Rosalie didn't understand what would cause the man to instigate such a prank.

“I wasn’t willing to share these next few days with anyone.” Red crooned, “There was only one way I could be certain we would have this time to ourselves, and it was to initiate your clever blacksite protocols while we were out. Alone.” 

What on earth did he mean, ‘this time to ourselves?’ They were heading to a deserted blacksite without…

Rosalie froze.

_Without security._

“We’re alone.” She breathed, the reality hitting her. “Well, minus Edward and Darla.” She corrected, waving her hand carelessly toward the front of the plane.

“Whom are being paid double time not to leave the cockpit _._ ” Raymond intoned playfully, glad to see the woman was coming around.

Rosalie positively glowed. “ _We’re alone._ ” She repeated, her excitement skyrocketing. 

The little innkeeper set down her glass, quickly crossed the plane and flung her arms around Red. “Finally!”

Raymond let out a genuine laugh, wrapping his arms about the curvaceous frame.

She captured his lips in a sensual kiss which made them both sway on the spot. 

Red returned the affection eagerly, pulling the woman tightly to him and guiding her to straddle his waist as he settled them both in his usual seat.

Her little pink tongue sought his with determination, doling out teasing flicks against his mouth until he opened to her with a deep, rumbling growl. She took the opportunity, swirling her the appendage erotically against his own. 

Raymond broke the kiss when the need to breath became an imperative. “I take it you aren’t too terribly upset with me?” He grunted, enjoying her response immensely.

The young woman peered pointedly at their surroundings. The gorgeous flowers, the record player, their lunch and wine waiting for them, it was all terribly romantic. 

“You are a wonderful,” Rosalie kissed his jaw, “thoughtful,” she kissed his chin, “ _darling_ man.” 

Her lips peppered his with affection, “I couldn’t be anything less than incandescent.” 

Her eyes showed the sincerity of her statement, glinting with flecks of gold, green, and blue as she beamed at her counterpart. This was better than anything she could have possibly imagined. They were going to a blacksite for a week, without another soul to interrupt. The knowledge made Rosalie’s body hum with excitement, an all too familiar ache settling in her core.

Raymond grinned when she cupped his cheek, stroking the stubble there fondly. 

“I needed you to myself,” he confessed, “I wanted us to be able to go somewhere and know we wouldn’t be interrupted. No guards, no clients, no damn Stratos and Jacopo lurking around every corner.” 

Rosalie laughed openly, the sound warming the room further. “I couldn’t agree more. It’s perfect Raymond, it really is.”

**************************************************************************************************

A few hours later, two pairs of shoes lay abandoned by the door and Red’s jacket was neatly draped across the arm of his chair. The remnants of their lunch had long been cleared away by Darla, who promptly returned to the cockpit and hadn’t been seen since.

Raymond laid lengthwise on the loveseat, his waistcoat undone and his tie loosened. He was delightfully relaxed, the wine and the music setting the perfect mood for a cozy flight. His whole body simmered with desire, knowing quite shortly he and the little innkeeper would be very much alone in a secluded safehouse.

The woman in question stood eyeing him happily from the door to the bathroom. He looked like a dozing lion, sprawled out without a care in the world.

Red watched her intently, eyes twinkling with mirth. She looked at him like he was something to eat.

“Come here little dove.” He purred, crooking a finger at her.

Rosalie pushed off the doorframe and sauntered toward him. A playful smirk flashed across her features as she bent, placing a hand on the edge of the sofa and delicately swinging a leg over his hips.

“ _Oh_?” The man crooned his surprise, supporting the woman’s waist with one hand. Those lovely legs straddled him, nestling at his sides so he was surrounded by the feminine figure. The man could hardly complain at the pleasant turn of events. 

The smoldering valley of Rosalie’s thighs pressed intimately against the rapidly hardening appendage between Raymond’s legs. “Have I told you how much I love when you call me little dove?” She asked, rubbing her hands up and down his chest and arms.

“Mmm…” he moaned softly, “I don’t think you have.”

She unknotted his tie, slowly trailing the expensive silk out from under his collar. “I adore it,” he was assured as she cast the accessory carelessly onto the chair with his jacket.

Red smiled for her antics when her nimble fingers undid the top half of his shirt. Scorching lips explored the expanse of skin exposed by her wandering, coaxing a string of pleasurable sounds from the man beneath her.

His large hands dropped to her backside, gripping a rounded globe in each hand and kneading rhythmically. 

Rosalie ran her teeth gently over his tightened nipple, drawing a sharp intake of breath and a husky chuckle from her captive.

Without warning his large hand swatted the full cheek it had been palming. The man delighted in the muffled squeal of surprise which leapt from the mouth exploring his chest.

“If you don’t want me to strip you bare and take you on this loveseat, I suggest you don’t spank me just yet.” Growled Rosalie, amusement and arousal evident in her tone.

The warning tickled Raymond to no end. “Oh, I’m terribly torn.” He groaned, arching his hips into the heated space between her legs. “I am very interested in any scenario involving you stripping me bare.”

Rosalie grinned, grinding herself on the straining bulge in his slacks. “Careful, I’m quite adept.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he teased, “I’d be dazed and naked before you could say _‘bad boy.’_ ”

The quip kindled the fire in Rosalie’s belly further, bringing a pleasant flush to her cheeks.

“How much longer?” She questioned with a small pout.

“An hour, if that.” Red assured her, reaching up to brush his thumb along the bottom of her mouth. 

Rosalie kissed the digit before suckling the very tip between plump lips.

Raymond growled for her, tugging the woman down so he could kiss her properly.

The little innkeeper wriggled against him as the man held her to his pleasure.

He rocked slowly against her molten center, allowing her to feel every inch of what he had to offer. One hand was buried in her hair, the other gripped her ass, ensuring those hips remained pressed tightly to his as he coaxed her into a frenzy. 

Each sigh, each desperate little mewl of pleasure fueled the ache inside Red. The knowledge they would be soothing that ache very, very soon only served to heighten his arousal. A small bit of turbulence bounced them, making the pair groan with pleasure before they burst out laughing. 

The realization they were making out on an entirely too small sofa like a pair of horny teens seemed to reach them both, replacing their feverishness with indulgent amusement. 

Rosalie shifted to nestle against the man’s side, content to wait out the remainder of the flight tucked against his warmth.

Raymond cradled the little bundle to his chest, his lips seeking her brow.

They returned to sharing a glass of wine and discussing their day in quiet, sensual tones.

“So how did you choose where we were going?” Rosalie asked sometime later, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

Red couldn’t hold back a mischievous smirk, reaching to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I commandeered your folio...” He confessed, hazarding a peek at her expression.

Rosalie’s pink pout hung wide, the incredulity written clearly on her face.

“Careful, my dear, I have a wealth of fantasies involving that sweet little mouth of yours.” He teased, thumbing her chin and positively thrilling in the radiant blush which flooded her features.

Rosalie scowled all the same, attempting to hide her blatant arousal. Her quick digits set to pinching his sides. “You really _are_ a bad boy, stealing my black book.”

“ _Borrowed_ ,” Raymond corrected innocently, snagging her pinching fingers in a strong grasp. “And technically, it was Dembe who nicked it.” 

A feminine giggle reached his ears as she tried in vain to wriggle free. “Uh-huh, I’m sure you coaxed that sweet boy into helping you with your dastardly plot.” She readily accused, smiling impishly at her captor.

The fingers of Raymond’s other arm scuttled along her ribcage, sending the trapped woman into peals of laughter. Red grinned as she squirmed and squealed, trying desperately to flee his tormenting grasp. 

When the man finally stopped, she lay panting against his chest, pointedly ignoring the smug look on his face.

“You’ll pay for that.” She warned, huffing to catch her breath as the cabin echoed with a soft _ding_.

They were ready to land.

Raymond’s eyes met hers with a heated, predatory stare. “I look forward to it.”

****************************************************************************************************

 _Undisclosed Location, Norway_  

They touched down on the small tarmac shortly thereafter, finding the tiny airport a complete ghost town in the evening light. 

Raymond grabbed their overnight bags and ushered Rosalie out into the dusky night. 

Reaching the bottom of the plane’s stairs, the woman saw a jet black coupe waiting patiently for their arrival. The two-seater had obviously been sent ahead by Dembe.

Raymond popped the trunk and placed their bags inside before heading back to the plane. He spoke briefly with Edward, tipping his hat to the man before descending the stairs and striding purposefully towards Rosalie. 

“At last.” He rejoiced, cupping her cheek and kissing her soundly. 

The sound of the jet’s engines roared around the pair, whipping Rosalie’s golden curls about wildly as her mouth was ravaged by her lover. Finishing the kiss to his satisfaction, Red reached to open the passenger door. He took her hand as she slid into the spacious seat, the view of the beautiful woman in the little hot rod making him smile.

Raymond made his way around to the driver’s seat moment’s later, placing a warm hand on her thigh. 

“Ready, my little innkeeper?” He asked, starting the engine. The aggressive car purred loudly, anxious to take the open road.

She beamed back at him “Ready, darling.”

The vehicle hurtled along the road, winding this way and that through the Norwegian wilderness.

Rosalie played navigator, directing Red through the outskirts of the city and toward their destination. 

The blacksite was tucked deep in the woods near Trømso, carefully hidden behind Fløya, the mountain range which cut the southern skyline of the city.

Rosalie held Red’s hand the whole way, her soft thumb stroking his palm hypnotically. The car was cozy, and they rode in companionable quiet, letting the soft lull of the radio wash over them.

Where they were heading was perfectly remote. The acreage of forest stood twenty miles from the main road and there were complex access codes for the three gates guarding the compound. 

The lane leading up to the home was bordered by beautiful white birch trees, wild berry bushes, and towering norwegian spruce. It looked much like a scene one would picture in a fantasy book filled with fairies, fae, and other mythical creatures. 

When they passed through the last security gate, the atmosphere in the car changed noticeably.

The young innkeeper became delightfully nervous. The prospect of what was to come made her shiver in Raymond’s grasp.

He smiled knowingly at her and she blushed shyly back, “Sorry.” She murmured, “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.” 

“New and exciting things are always nerve-wracking.” He philosophized, pleased when she rested her head on his shoulder. He turned and placed his lips to the top of her head. “I’m nervous too.” He confessed, hoping to soothe her. 

Rosalie snorted indelicately, “You, nervous? I don’t think that’s possible. You’re always the definition of confident swagger.”

“Oh, I still get nervous.” He nodded sagely, threading his fingers through hers. “I’d be foolish not to.”

Rosalie traced the much larger digits with her thumb, memorizing the way his hand felt in hers.

“The important things always make me nervous.” Red continued, “Asking out a beautiful woman and taking her to bed are right there at the top of the list.”

Rosalie tittered, the statement sounded an awful lot like pandering. She smiled softly anyway, squeezing his arm a little tighter in appreciation.

**************************************************************************************************

 _Blacksite #13 a.k.a “Fyr” - Undisclosed location in Norway_  

The sun still hadn’t set as they pulled into the driveway. The safehouse loomed out of the golden glow, standing tall amongst the trees. 

A single floor hideout made of floor to ceiling windows in a black metal finish stood atop a sixty foot rectangular tower made of large white and grey stones. Bespoke vaulted windows made of thick, tinted glass were carved into each of the four walls halfway up the building. A single black wooden door stood at the bottom, waiting to usher them into the home’s sheltered safety.

Out of all the blacksites Raymond had perused, this one stood out as the most romantic. It was highly remote, easily defended even without a security detail, and boasted a magnificent location. Though Red hadn’t seen the entirety of the interior, the one glossy photo in Rosalie’s blacksite folio showed the living space to be warm and sensual.

The pair exited the vehicle leisurely, stretching the fatigue from their limbs.

“This is Blacksite #13, but I call it Fyr.” The woman said softly. 

Red recalled seeing the name in her book. “Why Fyr?” He asked, gazing transfixed at the living space perched above them.

“It’s Norwegian for lighthouse.” She said simply. “We’re near the arctic circle, which means in the winter months you can see the aurora borealis quite clearly. In the summer months, like now, Norway is instead experiencing the Midnight Sun. The sun quite literally will not set for another month, and since there are windows upon windows, the house is in constant sunset between May and September.”

Raymond nodded his understanding, “Between the two phenomena, the tower is forever in the light.”

Rosalie smiled warmly, holding out her hand, which the man took.

Grabbing their bags from the trunk, the pair walked to the base of the tower.

Rosalie released Red’s hand so she could pull back the facing on one of the stones. Behind the facade was a glinting keypad, into which she tapped a passcode. 

The door unlocked and the two stepped carefully over the threshold. 

Setting her overnight bag on the entryway bench, Rosalie turned and closed the heavy door.

The deadbolt and steel locks fell into place with a wonderful, heavy, _thunk_ of finality.

The hallway was eerily silent, and the young woman could practically feel her lover prowling toward her.

Two large, masculine hands appeared from over her shoulders, flattening against the door’s face. Raymond bracketed her feminine frame with his imposing bulk, pinning her just how she liked.

“This usually is the part where you give me a tour, little dove.”

The man’s deep, gravelly baritone washed over her, sending shivers down her spine. Rosalie quaked at the husky sound, turning in the confined space so she could face him.

The visage of Raymond Reddington had changed. The warmth and affection always held in his gaze was colored with passion and desire. 

The sight kindled the fire in Rosalie to an unbearable inferno. 

Her small hand reached out, pressing gently against his chest. 

Red allowed the movement, taking a step back from his prey.

Rosalie glanced up at him as her hand trailed along his torso. 

The man’s jacket and tie were carelessly left on the plane, more important matters taking precedence. His waistcoat, however, remained perfectly intact, a circumstance Rosalie was all too happy to remedy.

The man chuckled darkly as she made quick work of the buttons, the item cascading to the floor before he could even blink.

Those dark eyes held his as Rosalie stepped over the garment, grasping Red’s hand and leading him up the spiral staircase.

Raymond watched avidly as her curvaceous figure swaggered up the stairs. 

She knew damn well where his eyes were glued, and delighted in allowing her hips to sway enticingly with each step.

When they reached the first landing, Red couldn’t help but grab those hips and pull her body flush against him.

Rosalie felt the sizable result of her efforts, giggling softly. “Tell me that’s for me.” She purred, arching her backside into his pelvis.

Red moaned at the contact, rocking forward into her teasing. “Only if you’re a good girl.” He chided, nipping the base of her neck before nudging her forward.

She lead them into the colossal bathroom, a wide open space lit by the large arched windows visible from the grounds. The walls were the same white and gray stone as the exterior. On one side of the room was a spacious walk-in shower with several polished brass shower heads. The other side held a sunken whirlpool tub, nearly as large as the grotto’s pool in Greece.

Raymond and Rosalie’s eyes met in the massive mirror hanging over his and hers sinks on the far wall. 

“This is the en-suite-” She began, stopping when Red’s hands came forward, carefully unbuttoning her blouse.

The green eyes never left hers as he untucked the soft button down from the pencil skirt. The garment was pulled gently from her shoulders, pooling onto the ground between them.

Rosalie gasped softly when Raymond tugged her long locks, exposing her slender nape. 

“Go on.” He prodded, placing a soft peck to the sensitive skin.

“The shower has ten heads, the whirlpool could easily seat six-”

She cried out in the next moment when Red latched his mouth to the spot where her neck and shoulder met. He sucked and nipped the tender valley, revealing a vibrant red mark as he pulled away, meeting those dark eyes again in the mirror. 

His gaze told her it wouldn’t be the only mark he left on her tonight. The man had been aching to have her, and wouldn’t stop until he claimed every last trembling inch.

The look was enough to send Rosalie scurrying up the last flight of stairs with Raymond in tow. When they reached the next landing, she turned, tugging the man by his shirt into the open living space.

A quaint living room and open concept kitchen overlooked a magnificent landscape. The view was entirely lost on the amorous pair, however, as they grew more restless.

“Living room.” Ground out Rosalie, rather inarticulately. Her eyes were focused on Raymond’s chest, which she was uncovering as quickly as possible.

The white shirt he wore had pale dove grey stripes and was truthfully one of Rosalie’s favorites. She finished unbuttoning the garment and pushed it down his strong arms, taking time to lay it carefully on one of the nearby chairs.

Red chuckled darkly, pulling her back into his embrace as soon as she was within reach.

Little hands explored his torso, skirting through the soft down covering his broad chest before being replaced by Rosalie’s warm, affectionate lips.

Raymond turned, growling softly as he guided them toward the rear of the space where an archway marked the location of the master bedroom.

Rosalie waylaid him playfully, ushering them towards the kitchenette. She was just about to wax poetic about the styling of the cabinetry when Red pressed her against the marble island.

The woman’s hands reached out to steady herself as she was bent over the stone countertop. She squeaked as Raymond’s large hand tugged insistently on the zipper of her skirt. 

The man couldn’t think of a more erotic prelude than the feminine sound mixing with the minuscule tick of the tiny zipper making its way down the bend of her backside. The delightful symphony was culminated by the whispered swish of her skirt hitting the floor.

The man groaned his approval at the sight of her full, tight derrière cradled in midnight blue lace. The impossibly small garment and its matching top were a pretty pairing, enticing him with what they hid and thrilling him with what they bared.

Red’s large, warm hands traced her stocking-clad legs as he knelt behind her. He loved her old fashioned taste when it came to lingerie. The minx was hardly ever seen without thigh highs and garter straps. He made a mental note to ask her what made her prefer such tantalizing delicates. He certainly wasn’t about to complain, seeing he was benefitting from the intoxicating attire.

Reaching her ankles, he gently lifted each foot, cupping the heels she wore and pulling them free, setting them neatly beside their owners.

Rosalie squealed as his lips and teeth met one rounded cheek of her backside. Another love bite bloomed on the satin skin.

Red soothed the spot with his tongue, unhooking the clips holding her stockings in place and sliding the silky material down the quaking limbs.

Once divested of the nylons, Rosalie stood flat footed before him, squirming in anticipation.

Red placed his hands over hers, running roughened palms slowly up her arms. 

Rosalie arched back into him, pressing tightly against his solid frame. Her hands left the countertop to reach behind her and unfasten his belt.

Red hissed at the sound of clinking metal. His fingertips dug into the woman’s shoulders as the thick leather was trailed out from its loops. He saw Rosalie’s neatly manicured fingers wrapped around the item, placing it on the counter before turning around and grasping his slacks.

He kissed her, sucking her bottom lip and teasing her with his tongue until her fingers struggled in their attempt to undo the simple button. 

A moment later, he was freed of the cumbersome material, leaving them in a similar state of undress.

“Let’s take this to the appropriate venue.” Raymond rasped, scooping her into his arms.

Rosalie instinctively wrapped her legs about his waist, grey eyes meeting his in a burning, lust-blown stare. 

The man stepped over the threshold into the sun-drenched bedroom, beaming at the woman in his arms. They had waited too long for this.

She kissed him and their sensual dance began anew. 

In the beginning, they were partners, it was purely business. 

Each had a commodity the other wanted, both had a need to be met in the other. 

Neither had been aware of the dance they were being led into.

Raymond had chased her down, sought her out, acquired her, as a means to further his own agenda. 

Rosalie had allowed the acquisition, seeing to her own benefit in the exchange.

They sized each other up that day in Sao Paulo. The formidable Concierge of Crime, a terrible, violent man in possession of seemingly endless cunning and influence, and the elusive, nationless innkeeper guarding a private stronghold of safety and secrecy. 

They had assessed the risk of such an uneasy alliance. Criminals had a terrible time doing business as it was, and neither one could fathom sharing their hand. 

She turned the tables on him, threatened his life, set her own boundaries, and Red agreed to them, holding his own close to his chest.

That day and nearly every day since, the two pushed at those boundaries, shifting and moulding them to suit their needs.

There were days when Rosalie’s battlements were breached and repaired, but there were just as many days when Red was the one redrawing their lines in the sand.

It had taken nearly a year of shifting those lines to reach this point, the tipping point being Munich.

Raymond had taken what she gave that night - her trust, her loyalty. It had been earned, and she in turn had earned his. 

The woman had allowed a glimpse of her fiery nature and deadly cunning, challenging every idea of who Red had thought she was. The raw, criminal side of Rosalie Øllegaard spoke to the darkest corners of Raymond Reddington in ways he never experienced before. 

She told him he was worthy. He was worthy of love and affection, of safety and loyalty. 

The wild and vibrant demons which danced in her soul were of the same eloquence and impudence as his own. 

Red’s eyes never left hers as he set her down at the foot of the bed. The massive king size four poster faced the open windows. Cool, crisp white sheets beckoned to them.

Golden spindles of sunlight flooded the room, casting Rosalie in an almost angelic glow. Red smiled devilishly, for he knew she was no such thing.

The mischievous creature before him smirked slyly back, reaching to cup his cheek. She could hear the thoughts running rampant through his mind, all the suspense and longing which had brought them here. She knew, because hers were the same.

Rosalie’s voice was warmth incarnate, husky and melodic as she crooned the loveliest sentiment Raymond had heard in years.

“Come to bed, darling, let’s quiet that mind.”

**************************************************************************************************

A snarl leapt from Red’s mouth as he lifted the curvaceous figure onto the soft sheets, crawling up the bed to settle between her silky thighs.

Rosalie grasped the back of his neck, pulling him into a feverish kiss. Her tongue battled his, fighting for dominance as she writhed beneath him.

Raymond’s slid beneath her warm body, squeezing her backside before running slowly up the planes of her back. He unhooked her bra with practiced ease, tossing the article haphazardly across the room.

Rosalie sighed blissfully as her breasts were freed from their confinement. She flushed when Red’s eyes trekked over the two pristine mounds, his arousal painfully evident.

The peaks ached for his touch, the pert nipples strained with excitement, willing his hot mouth to torment them.

Red happily complied, peppering the valley between her breasts with affection. He nuzzled the impeccably soft skin before catching one tight little pebble in his mouth. He suckled greedily at the sensitive bud, plucking and rolling the other between deft fingers.

Rosalie cried out her pleasure, threading her slender fingers through his short hair and holding him to his activities.

The man growled his approval, nipping the peak before shifting his attention to its twin. 

Every suckle, every flicker of his roughened tongue sent jolts of awareness to Rosalie’s clit. The woman was writhing desperately beneath her lover, wanting more from him.

“Tell me what you need, little dove.” He purred, letting his lips brush teasingly over the aching mounds.

“I need _you_.” She whimpered plaintively, skirting her nails down his sides so goosebumps erupted all over his body.

“You have me.” He husked innocently, playing hard to get.

A little growl of frustration worked its way out of Rosalie even as she grinned. She truthfully rather enjoyed his playfulness, but she was in dire need and was not about to be derailed from her pursuits at this stage.

“You know what I mean.” She smiled impishly, letting out a giggle as her toes snagged his boxers, tugging the offending material down his defined thighs in one fell swoop.

Raymond chuckled for her clever tactics. The sultry sound reverberating through his chest, arousing his lover further. 

The thick appendage between his legs bobbed heavily at its reveal, lengthening further at the moan of longing which echoed from Rosalie upon seeing the object of her desire.

“You’re a resourceful little minx.” Red teased, leaning to kiss her again as he pulled the garment from his legs. 

The pair moaned softly when the velvety skin of his cock brushed Rosalie’s thighs.

“ _Please, Raymond_.” She whispered, a tremor wracking her frame. A soft hand reached between them to grasp his straining erection, sliding along the hot, rigid flesh teasingly.  

Masculine fingers grasped Rosalie’s hips, the touch bruising in its intensity. Red’s infamous control was dangling by a rapidly fraying thread. He let out a guttural moan when she stroked his fattening length, spurring him to new lust-addled heights.

The digits on her hips curled into the lace covering her sex, the last scrap of fabric hiding her delectable body from his view.

Raymond peppered the plane of her tummy with wet, open-mouthed kisses. When he reached the swell of her hips, he pulled the lace down a mere inch.

Rosalie yelped when he bestowed another love bite on the pristine expanse of skin. Her fingers carded through his hair, the little nails dragging along the back of his neck.

The touch goaded Red further. With a deep groan of satisfaction, he tugged the dark lace from its resting place, baring her from head to toe. The man’s mouth followed the trail her panties led down her slender legs.

A sigh of relief escaped them both as they were finally freed from every last stitch of clothing.

Raymond looked down at his lover, taking time to memorize the way she looked in that moment.

“You are so beautiful, Rosalie.” He murmured ardently, tracing his fingertips along her satin skin, smiling softly at the goosebumps left in his wake.

It was an odd, specific kind of melancholy Red felt, realizing he would never see her like this again. The last fleeting seconds before they finally made love.

The woman’s eyes held his gently, a deeper understanding passing between them. “I’m yours, darling.” She promised, sitting up to claim his lips in a sweet, sensual caress.

Red returned the affection with interest, crawling up Rosalie’s frame so she rested against the plush mattress once again. His arms bracketed her little head as the man reached for the top drawer of the nightstand.

Rosalie turned her head, peppering his arms and chest with kisses.

The man pulled a condom from the treasure trove in the drawer, tearing it open quick as a flash.

His lover snatched it from him, smiling coyly as she unraveled it onto his throbbing erection.

The action was erotic as hell, tearing a broken moan from his chest. 

Raymond watched the small hands stroke him lovingly, teasing the hot, hard length.

Rosalie was enamoured with the thick appendage, eyeing the weeping head which would soon be spreading her wide with a mixture of nervousness and hunger. 

Red’s mouth went bone dry as he watched her lick those rosy lips, leaving them with a bright shine he longed to kiss off.

Fathoms deep grey eyes sought him again before she wriggled her hips closer to him in invitation.

“ _Please,_ _Raymond_.” She pleaded, batting those long lashes up at him.

The man exhaled shakily, the sight all too arousing. He took himself in hand and pressed between her thighs. “Open for me, little dove.” He commanded, a rumble of satisfaction escaping him as her lovely legs spread without hesitation. 

He guided the fat crown toward her glistening lips. She was soaking wet and shaking for him. The knowledge filled Red to the brim with an elated, possessive need.

Time seemed to stop as the bulbous head of his penis dragged along her clit, coaxing another rush of wetness from her center. The slick arousal coated his twitching shaft, easing his path into the welcoming little hole.

Rosalie moaned loudly when he breached her folds. Her tight heat cradled his head lovingly, drawing on the sensitive crown in an erratic rhythm. 

Red groaned soulfully, shuddering as his aching head was teased by her trembling pussy. He held himself still in her shallow depths until he could stand it no longer, then pushed further into her cushioned warmth. The swollen flesh of her labia caressed his hot and straining shaft perfectly, sending frissons of pleasure along Raymond’s body. Ever so slowly, he inched forward, getting lost in the sensual pull of her scorching body. 

The little alcove delighted in his invasion even as it squeezed him tighter than a vice.

Raymond gasped with the effort of pushing into the tight passage. It was a perfect combination of impossibly snug and deliciously wet, coaxing him deeper and deeper, seeking every last inch he could provide.

Rosalie’s breathing was already labored, the man’s thick member was spreading her so wonderfully. Her hands trailed in a restless pattern over his chest and back as he slowly, mercilessly inched forward. Her hips jerked involuntarily to meet him, driving the ramrod erection a few inches deeper. 

A chorus of pleasured sounds erupted from them both at the movement.

Red brushed his lips against Rosalie’s then leaned back and caught her eyes as he thrust forward, seating himself fully in her sodden, clenching depths.

“ _Oh, God._ ” She quaked around him, her pussy fluttering helplessly as it tried to accommodate the fullness of his rigid girth.

Raymond rasped at the feel of the painfully tight walls rippling around his shaft. “God _,_ _Rosalie, it feels so goo_ d _._ ” He growled desperately into her mouth, riding out her body’s tremors.

Rosalie’s hands grasped the back of his neck, pulling him back into a passionate kiss. Her hips rut wantonly against his, trying desperately to ease some of the ache between her thighs.

“You’re so ready for me, aren’t you?” Red husked, shifting so his pelvis brushed against the hood of her sex. 

The sensation sent jolts through his lover’s body, causing her little pussy to throb around him.

“I _n-need-_ ” her breath forcibly hitched when Raymond slid slowly out of her, only to thrust languidly back in. “ _Yes!_ ” She mewled, bucking into him.

The man set a slow, shiver-inducing pace. The long, heavy drag of his shaft allowed Rosalie to feel every inch of his rock hard member as he rocked a steady rhythm into her core.

“I love when I make your breath hitch like that. ” He smiled, leaning to place another love bite at the base of her neck.

The feminine sounds he was pulling from her throat with each thrust were driving the man wild. She had been responsive to every one of his advances from the start, but she was especially vocal when wrapped snugly around his cock.

Red sat back on his knees, pulling her hips flush with his and slowly increasing the tempo.

“So tight, so perfect. ” He crooned, pumping her vital body steadily. “Look at this sweet little pussy, taking my thick cock right to the hilt .”

A radiant blush flooded Rosalie from head to toe at his statement and his vulgarity. Her eyes fell to the sight of their union, watching in heated fascination as the glistening shaft delved forward only to reappear seconds later, coated in her slick arousal. The visual of what he was doing to her stirred her pleasure to greater heights.

A thready moan reached Raymond’s ears as he found an angle that made her shudder. Her little nails bit into his back as he ravaged that sweet spot, thrilling in the desperate mewls of pleasure which cascaded from his lover’s mouth.

“ _Fuck…me_ …” She moaned, back arching with spine tingling pleasure.

Red moved to meet her needs, thrusting powerfully into her receptive body. His mouth dropped to suckle on her left breast, garnering the sweetest sigh of relief he had ever heard.

“ _Yes…_ God _…Just like that._ ” Rosalie mewed, her thighs beginning to quake tremulously around Raymond’s waist. Her heels pressed into the space above his rounded ass, working in time with her hips to meet his thrusts.

“You’re going to come for me, little dove.” He commanded huskily, the need to see and feel her orgasm a sudden biological imperative.

Rosalie let out a despondent whimper, wanting to meet his sensual demand.

Red recognized the desperate noise, feeling it resonate in the very tip of his cock.

The woman tugged her lover back into her sphere, latching her kiss-swollen mouth to the base of his neck.

Raymond released a guttural moan when he felt her suck hard, leaving a dark red mark of her own on the man’s skin. The sensation felt so damn good, Red felt his balls tighten spasmodically. 

“Not fucking yet. ” He growled, pulling her mouth away from the spot below his earlobe, where she had been tonguing and suckling feverishly.

Her protest was silenced by Red’s mouth capturing her breast. The straining nipples rejoiced at being reunited with his talented hands and scorching mouth.

Rosalie keened from the sweet torture, all the while, her lover continued to nail her into the plush bed.

“ _Please,_ please don’t stop.” The plea was offered in urgent supplication as she teetered on an excruciating edge.

Raymond thrust sharply, bouncing her small frame off his driving shaft. He plundered the drenched hole, hitting her g spot at just the right angle. The man grunted like an animal when he felt her tight little pussy clench around him.

“ _Yes, that’s it,_ ” he praised, toes curling at the incredible sensation of her release. “Come for me, Rosalie. Come on my cock _._ ”

Her lover’s voice rumbled soothingly along her skin as he thrust tirelessly into her, suckling her tormented breasts until a broken howl of pleasure was ripped from her throat.

Rosalie was delirious with ecstasy. Her orgasm crashed over her, the pleasure singeing each and every nerve ending between her thighs. “ _Raymond_!” She cried out, her body bucking against the masculine frame still thrusting into her.

Raymond revelled in the way she called his name, at once pleading and praising as her trembling pussy bathed his shaft in her orgasm. The hot, wet cream made the tight tunnel deliciously slick, allowing his cock to move more easily inside her.

Rosalie let out a string of wonderful, feminine moans as he rode her through her peak. She slowly eased down from her high, wrapping herself tightly around Red’s warm, comforting bulk. 

Raymond had eased his thrusts to a slower, gentler tempo, smiling smugly as his lover’s trembling finally slowed.

“I love the way you make love to me.” She crooned in his ear, running her tongue sensually along the sensitive ridge.

It was Red’s turn to tremble as she continued to purr erotically, the dying vestiges of her orgasm rippling over his aching head.

“You make me ache and tremble in ways I’ve never felt before _._ ” She confided, gasping when he thrust more forcefully in response. 

The man was focused on the tight sheath surrounding his member, seeking the pinnacle for which he had been so deeply longing.

Rosalie’s head fell back at the onslaught, a husky snarl leaving her full lips.

Red grinned, delighting in the carnal sound, knowing he was responsible for it. “Tell me more.” He pleaded, restless palms kneading and caressing her at every avenue. 

“You feel incredible _._ ” She panted, already invested in the familiar coiling sensation overtaking her abdomen. “The way you possess me, move me, fuck me. God, Raymond, it’s so good.” Her body was doubly sensitive from her previous orgasm, and the man’s heavy shaft was rapidly leading her into another powerful peak.

The man’s breathing was labored, his body taut with need as he pummeled the volcanic depths swallowing his manhood whole.

“Come for me, Raymond.” His lover whispered in a lusty gasp, nearly shattering him then and there.

“You first.” He growled, reaching down to circle her clit expertly.

He was rewarded with a delectable, tortured whimper as the woman’s pussy began to throb and clench again.

“ _Harder_ ” She moaned, her voice joining her body’s pleas for release, coaxing him deeper into her tightly coiled heat.

The massive four poster shifted slightly with the force of the man’s thrusts as he rapidly approached his climax.

“God _damn,_ ” he rasped, gripping her hips tightly and pulling her into his driving force. “ _Fuck, Rosalie, I need…_ ” Words failed him for what could ease the ache in his groin. Acting on instinct, he dropped his mouth to her pert, pink nipples, suckling in time with his thrusts as he fingered her clit determinedly.

His lover cried out, her body bowed from the overstimulation.

“Comefor me, honey _._ ” He pleaded shakily, needing the release so badly it hurt. “Come on my cock again.”

The quivering hole rippled violently, giving in to his relentless coaxing.

Sparking grey eyes held lust-blown green, willing him to surrender to their shared passion.

“Comewith me.” She begged, her little nails biting frantically into the mottled flesh of his back.

The scratching sensation made his testicles tighten forcefully, coupling with the wild fluttering of her sex to send the man careening over the edge.

The animalistic snarl of carnal completion which left Raymond’s mouth ricocheted off the rafters, echoing loudly in the spacious room.

Rosalie arched to meet him, the sound of his pleasure sending goosebumps down her spine as his thick cock slammed into her clenching pussy. The hard fucking forced a sweet, tremulous moan from her ragged throat.

The feminine sounds cascading from her spurred Red on, making his hips jerk erratically. 

“God, _Damn.”_ He panted, his lover’s body still trembled and twitched around him as Raymond surrendered to his body’s demands. 

“Oh yes… _Fuck, I’m cumming._ ” Red rasped, feeling the first pulse of his sensitive slit fill the condom. “ _Fuck!_ ” The man gritted, the relentless heat massaging his shaft endlessly. 

“God, Rosalie, you feel so good.” He shuddered, riding the waves of pleasure within her quaking frame. Red’s thrusts slowed with each pulse of his cock, her climax wringing out every last drop of his release.

The man fought to catch his breath as he relaxed into his lover, allowing his weight to envelop her. “My little dove.” He crooned raggedly, nuzzling her nose in open affection.

Rosalie mewed contentedly even as her breasts still heaved from the exertion. “That was… _incredible_.” She sighed, cradling Raymond’s cheek and kissing him in a languid, gentle caress.

“Why on earth did we wait so long?” He questioned innocently, emitting a sensual chuckle when he felt her lips twitch their annoyance beneath his. Slender fingers threaded through his short, tousled hair, sending goosebumps along his spent frame. Red leaned back to admire the effect of his joke, laughing deeply at the little scowl which greeted him.

“You and your damn sense of nobility.” She growled, donning an effective pout which tugged at the man’s resolve. “We could have been doing this for months.”

Raymond grinned broadly, “Well, I should do my best to make it up to you, shouldn’t I?” He asked, dropping his hand to trace the silky skin of her torso.

“I should think so.” She breathed in a tremulous voice, his touch reigniting the fire in her belly.

Red watched, enchanted as her breasts tightened before his eyes and a telling flush bloomed on her chest and cheeks. The sight stirred his previously sated cock, coaxing the rod back to rigidity in a matter of moments.

“Thank goodness I’ve got seven long days, and seven long nights to make amends.” He purred.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview:
> 
> Rosalie was caught behind the man’s burning gaze. The green orbs held her paralyzed as the Concierge of Crime closed in on her. 
> 
> “I’m not finished with you, pet.” He crooned, reaching to cradle her sex lovingly.


	18. Suits and Stockings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m terribly sorry this took SO long, I had a family emergency which took me away for a while. However, I am back, and as a HUGE thank you for those of you sticking with me, there will be TWO chapters this week! This one posted today and another one will be posted Friday :) As always, I love to hear from you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for Blacksite #13:  
> https://www.beautifullife.info/urban-design/vertical-entertaining-tower-house-guests/
> 
> A/N: I can’t believe this has over 2k views...thank you all so much for reading!

Raymond and Rosalie collapsed exhausted and panting several hours later, the sheets crumpled haphazardly about their spent forms. A soft sheen of sweat shone on their skin, left raw and flushed by their passionate endeavors. They had yet to leave the bedroom, preferring to spend the entire night alternating between rambunctious bouts between the sheets and curling up together in sated contentment.

Red now lay on his side, one leg entwined with his lover’s, an arm wrapped about her curves to trail lazy fingers along the supple skin of her torso.

Rosalie’s hand cradled his head to her shoulder, fingertips carding through his soft, short hair in soothing circles. 

Their attachment and affection grew with every touch, every stroke, every word uttered in quaking pleasure under the golden sun which still refused to set on their lovemaking.

“God…Raymond.” She swallowed, trying in vain to catch the breath which had been stolen from her.

A deep groan of agreement could be heard from the vicinity of her chest, making the woman sigh melodiously.

The pair were turning out to be extremely compatible bed partners, each meeting the needs of the other before a plea could even leave their lips.

A minute aftershock rippled through Rosalie as her mind drifted to the man in her arms.

Raymond Reddington had delivered, in every aspect of the word.

He had taken her, moulded her to his heavy cock and the plush bed to which he pinned her, bringing her to trembling ecstasy again and again until the woman could want for nothing. She shattered into his waiting embrace, gladly taking him with her into trembling bliss.

The pair shivered as the room rapidly began to cool their burning bodies.

“We should get up soon…” mumbled Rosalie, barely able to keep her eyes open.

“Later.” Red yawned, tugging the blankets over them and pulling her into a tight embrace before he too was lulled into a deep sleep.

************************************************************************************************************************

Raymond awoke much later when the woman in his arms stirred, wriggling from his grasp.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He grumbled sleepily, reaching to tug the warm bundle back into his sphere.

Rosalie giggled as she was forcibly dragged back across the spacious bed. “I’m going to order us supplies, we will have to eat sometime this week, you know.” She teased, turning to pepper his cheek with kisses. 

Red leaned into the gesture, humming his enjoyment before pointedly cupping the valley of her thighs, an eyebrow quirking suggestively.

“ _Oh_ , well keep that in mind,” Rosalie purred, pupils dilating slightly. She kissed him once again before rolling onto her stomach, away from his arousing influence.

Raymond yawned and stretched, a relaxed grunt rumbling from his throat, born of the sated ache in the man’s body. Their amorous activities had engaged long forgotten muscle groups, leaving a delightful soreness in its wake.

Rosalie was a thrilling lover, eloquent and inventive in her lovemaking. Raymond had watched her in awe each time they fell into a tangle of lips and tongues and trembling limbs. He had watched as her body sought him, possessed him, relented to him, how she had left no inch of the man unexplored. She had met Red’s passion ounce for ounce, inundating his very bones with rapturous pleasure until he could do nothing but follow her into euphoria. 

A devilish smirk crossed the man’s features as his eyes traveled to the beautiful dip of the woman’s back, bared from the top of her shoulders to the base of her spine for his viewing pleasure.

She dialed her associate, a heavy-sounding Norwegian lad answering the call. 

Without hesitating, Red leaned to drop his lips along the plains and valleys of the woman beside him, nuzzling her silky skin to his heart’s content.

Gentle hands moved to trail up and down Rosalie’s body, keeping her mind distracted with what was waiting for her the moment she hung up the phone. The woman sighed her enjoyment, lips curling into a smile around the request for a small order of kitchen staples and two extra sets of sheets and linens. She added a mysterious order for a box ‘BOR13S’ with a barely contained mew as Raymond’s warm hands continued to move languidly over her.

Red had always prided himself on his formidable self control and endless patience in strenuous negotiations. It was one of his strong suits as a fugitive, being able to keep a cool head until the perfect moment arrived to unleash his plans.

This personality trait, however, did not seem to extend to his engagement with the enticing blonde beneath him. 

He watched in resigned amusement as his traitorous hand reached out of its own accord, all strategy gone, grasping the sheet covering Rosalie’s prone form and pulling it down slowly to reveal the swell of her naked posterior inch by magnificent inch.

He’d had the best of intentions, truly. Raymond had merely sought to show his affection while she ordered their supplies. 

His roaring libido, however, had different plans.

 _Really_ , he thought, who could blame him? There was a beautiful woman right there, perfectly within reach, barely covered and positively enchanting in the sun’s golden glow. He couldn’t be expected to control his baser impulses under such circumstances, not this early in the game. She was too enticing, the possibilities too arousing, his cock too damn hard to even consider behaving himself.

The loss of her only covering didn’t seem to faze the woman at all, she merely arched her backside in open enticement. The wily creature turned and winked at Red, catching sight of his rigid erection and throwing a saucy little wiggle his way.

Raymond flashed a wicked grin and popped the smooth curve of her ass with his palm in response, issuing an incredibly satisfying _smack_ , which echoed loudly in the tall room.

Rosalie quickly covered the receiver as a wanton squeak leapt from her lips.

“ _Behave_.” She hissed, casting him an admonishing glance. She received a wolffish smile in response, forcing the woman to change tack at top speed.

“ _Be a good boy_ , or I’ll order those Belgian chocolates you hate.”

The playful threat was met with a dark scowl from her counterpart, who, regardless of the fact he was still showering her in affection, issued a low noise of discontent. “Then I suggest you don’t tease me with this tight little-”

Rosalie reached back, covering his mouth with her hand and barely containing her laughter. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” She growled, not wanting her associate to realize she was bedding one of her clients.

Red sniggered, begrudgingly allowing the woman a moment’s reprieve from his more instigative antics. He had just brushed her hand away when his stomach gave an audible growl.

“Can I satisfy any particular craving?” Rosalie asked, tilting her head straight back and locking amused eyes with her hungry lover.

“Chocolates.” Grunted Raymond in an impish undertone, placing his lips to her brow before kissing a searing trail down her back. “ _Not_ the Belgian kind.” He insisted peevishly, swirling his tongue against the dimples at the base of her spine. 

The sensation made Rosalie squirm and bite back a giggle as she dictated his wants.

“Wine…you know which ones I like.” Red continued, running a broad hand down her legs and spreading them slowly apart.

“... _Things I can eat off of you_.”

Rosalie couldn’t hold back a squeal when she felt his teeth nip high up on her inner thigh. The action both surprised and aroused, forcing her to apologize profusely to her associate while Raymond’s sultry chuckle filled the room. She made up a feasible lie about seeing a spider, ordering the remaining requests in a rush before blessedly ending the call.

“You are incorrigible!” Rosalie insisted, though Raymond could plainly see the bright smile illuminating her face before she buried it in his pillow.

The man let his weight envelop her, feeling the feminine frame relax into him. “How much time do we have?” He husked in her ear, enjoying the goosebumps which erupted along her body at the request. 

Now Red stopped to think about it, he had no clue what time it was, if it was day or night, or even how long they had been there. 

A quick glance around the room revealed a small clock, telling him it was shortly after eleven in the morning the following day. A broad smile lit the man’s features as he realized they still had six days of blissful solitude awaiting them.

“About an hour.” Rosalie sighed, turning so she could wrap herself around him. She beamed dreamily upward, taking in the arousing sight that was a disheveled Raymond Reddington. His normally debonair facade was deliciously ruffled, the aura of the towering criminal giving way to an alluring, boyish charm.

Rosalie could feel his broad frame, still as naked as she, resting between her thighs. 

Red smiled fondly back at her, happy to hold still for her appreciative perusal of his person. 

The woman reached up to card her fingers through his hair, recalling how she had done so over and over last night. A tinkling laugh left her lips, realizing the short locks stood practically on end from her playing.

Rosalie was quite certain her hair was faring no better, recalling how Raymond had seemed to love burying his hands in the teeming curls. Hour after hour, he had gently tugged them this way and that to expose more of her sensitive flesh to his wanderings. 

The recollection made the woman blush, recalling how her lover's mouth had aggressively marked her throughout the night, and how she had voiced her pleasure with each and every one. 

Though a couple marks could be seen on Red’s neck and chest, they were nowhere near the array left on the young innkeeper. The dozen or so love bites which now riddled her hips, neck, breasts, and thighs stood out spectacularly against her slightly lighter skin.  

Raymond was glad to see she was in such a good humour, that addictive little laugh pairing nicely with the pink flush flooding her skin as he raked burning green eyes over his handiwork. 

Truthfully, Red wasn’t entirely sure what had come over him last night. 

Normally, a love bite here and there was only to be expected in the throes of passion, but this… This, he knew, had been quite deliberate.

Raymond remembered the words he had uttered like a mantra as the beautiful woman quivered beneath him, above him, beside him, marked from every angle she could be taken. 

“ _Come for me, Rosalie, just for me_.”

_Just for me._

Raymond considered jealousy a base emotion, a tell of insecurity. This possessiveness, he told himself, was born of a different emotion. Red had always felt the desire to shelter the woman beneath him, from the very beginning of their acquaintance. The need to protect her had been built moment by moment as their partnership became a friendship and their friendship became a relationship. Last night, Raymond had felt those same sensations combine with something wholly new, a desire for belonging. He wanted to belong to her and she to him, as completely as one could belong to another human being. With every touch, that belonging seemed to inch closer and closer to his grasp.

The call to claim her had been impossible to resist after waiting for so long.

Every moment of the previous night seemed to linger in the air between the two as they lay ensconced in each other’s arms. Raymond’s sensual baritone floated in a ghostly echo along the rafters, keeping time with a possessive corner of his soul which thrummed a steady pulse at the sight of Rosalie’s pristine skin speckled with the bright red evidence of his desire. The sensation of her tender flesh in his mouth, the sounds which poured from her lips each time Red had felt compelled to mark her as his own, every second hovered palpably between them in the early morning light.

The flashbacks awakened the fire in Rosalie, who felt her lover’s body stiffening in response to the feeling of her, warm, wet, and squirming impatiently beneath him. She wrapped her arms about his neck, pulling his lips to hers and kissing him with a quiet intensity. 

A roguish laugh could be heard as the little minx shifted them, taking Raymond to his back and wasting no time in unravelling a condom onto his twitching shaft. 

“Ride me.” He commanded softly, guiding her heat to envelope him once more. A delectable little shiver raced up his lover’s spine, followed by the sinful sound of her bare bottom impacting with his stocky thighs. 

Rosalie gasped, catching her lip between her teeth and sighing her relief as Raymond arched to meet her.

************************************************************************************************************************

Reddington watched his business partner in undisguised amusement as she scurried about the suite, hurriedly donning some clothes. Her property manager was ten minutes out, having called her once he entered the initial gate leading to the property.

The woman’s legs were like that of a newborn giraffe courtesy of their impromptu quickie, and Raymond couldn’t help but snigger to himself, seeing one of her thighs give a little spasm as she slid into an emerald silk skirt.

“Oh hush, you.” She groused, giggling in the next breath as she gripped the nearby bedpost.

Taking pity on her rather charming predicament, Red stood, stepping around the bed to assist with the slippery garment.

“Why bother getting dressed?” He asked, guiding the silk up her shapely legs. Once the skirt was zipped, his hands continued their ascent, following the full curves of her waist and hips.

“Do you often greet your associates in your underwear?” Rosalie questioned pointedly, batting his wandering hands away. “I can’t very well go meeting one of my property managers in a negligee.”

A lewd chuckle resonated from Red’s throat as he shook his head. She had him there. It was unheard of for him to be seen out of his suits, let alone in the state of undress Rosalie was currently sporting. He let her finish dressing in peace, opting to simply slip a robe over his bare torso and sleep pants.

The image caught Rosalie’s eye as she was applying a touch of makeup in the vanity mirror.

“ _I love the new suit._ ” She quipped dryly, a little put out that she had to get dressed while he was obviously remaining in his current attire. 

Red’s tongue prodded his cheek, catching the woman giving him an appreciative and blatant once-over. “He’s not _my_ associate.” The man reasoned, swaggering off into the living area.

Rosalie nabbed her nylons and a pair of pumps before following him out into the space, seating herself on the ottoman in front of him.

Raymond had plucked a novel from the ever-present bookshelves, settling himself in one of the cushy armchairs for a bit of light reading. He thumbed through the pages, quickly finding his desired chapter. 

Rosalie set about donning her customary stockings, ears pricked for the sound of a car pulling into the drive.

Red cocked his head, thoroughly distracted from his pastime, watching intently as the delicate material was slid up her toned legs. “What is it about thigh highs?…” He questioned, voice trailing off when the woman hiked her skirt to clip the garter straps.

She caught his roaming eyes with a smile, “What do you mean?”

“They’re old fashioned,” said Raymond, working to assemble a thought pattern which didn’t involve him tearing the damn things off. “They’re not particularly necessary, yet I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without them. Why?”

“Why do you wear a three piece suit?” She countered, quirking a lone brow.

“Touché.” He conceded with a smirk. He was just about to answer her question when a soft chime could be heard throughout the home.

Rosalie sighed, “That’ll be him.”

The woman slipped into her black pumps, bending to brush her lips against Raymond’s. “Hold that thought, yeah? I’m more than a little curious.”

“We’ll pick up where we left off, as soon as we’re rid of the interloper.” Red promised, gesturing her toward the stairs.

The woman strode the length of the home, brushing imaginary lint from her skirt before she reached the doorway. 

Raymond watched in fascination as her delicate shoulders settled into a straight line, her back elongated, and her chin lifted ever so slightly. The mask of the criminal settled neatly into place.

Clever grey eyes swiveled to his, the woman he adored glinting clearly within. With a quick wink, she descended the stairs to greet her associate.

A thousand new questions swirled in Red’s mind as he watched her go. Even more than her attire, he was intrigued by what made her criminal side tick. The hidden and unexpected corners of her hovered like a puzzle before him, just waiting to be solved.

Rosalie and her associate ascended the stairs moments later with bags and boxes in hand.

Raymond stood, taking the parcels from the woman’s arms, noticing there was something decidedly off-kilter about her body language.

She was fighting a losing battle with a radiant blush, and her voice was flat and clipped as she thanked him for carrying the items for her.

Her associate, a strapping red haired man built similar to Dembe and Horace, strode into the nearby kitchen with a boyish grin on his rosy face.

Red turned to Rosalie, an eyebrow silently asking the necessary questions.

She met his gaze, mouthing _‘Later.’_ before following the other man into the kitchen. “Kenneth, this is Lucas, my property manager for the Baltics and Scandinavia. Lucas, this is Kenneth Rathers, he’s a preferred client of mine.”

The men shook hands, the younger seemed politely amused, the older, rather suspicious.

“Mr. Rathers,” Lucas beamed, his mouth slightly obscured by a bushy red goatee. “I do hope you enjoy your stay here in Norway. You’ve lucked into one of the best sites in the network.”

Raymond nodded amicably, though his green eyes held an intense scrutiny. A dozen scenarios for what had rattled Rosalie were flitting through his mind, most of which centered on untoward behavior from the cheeky-looking boy across from him.

Rosalie stared pointedly up at Red, shaking her head a fraction of an inch.

“Tell me, Lucas, what part of Norway do you hail from?” The older man asked, easily glossing over the awkward pause.

The property manager grinned, “Hedmark, though my wife and I now reside in Oslo.”

The group made small talk for a respectable spell, the two fugitives relying mostly on Lucas’s ability to talk about his family to fill the appropriate amount of time before he could be politely ushered out.

Handshakes were exchanged again before the fellow turned to his employer. “Should you need anything else, Frøken Øllegaard, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

Rosalie smiled softly, “Thank you, Lucas, allow me to walk you out.”

Red waited as the pair made their way down the stairs, listening closely as the safehouse door was closed and a truck engine started in the drive. The young innkeeper’s heels could be heard in the entryway, then climbing the spiral staircase, halting for a moment at the ensuite before ascending into the living area.

The man didn’t even pause for her to fully enter the room. “What on earth has you so flustered?”

Rosalie stood in the doorway with resigned expression. She could only look at the floor as she held aloft… her blouse from the day before. 

“As bold as brass in the doorway to the bath.” She grimaced, “There’s no way he didn’t notice.”

Raymond tried in vain to hide a very smug grin, remembering, now, how they had left a trail of clothing leading to the bedroom like an age-old cliché. “Oh dear,” he concurred, barely able to contain his mirth.

“I got dressed for nothing, and now an associate knows I’m sleeping with a client.” Rosalie bemoaned, shaking her head and putting a hand over her eyes.

Her lover roared with laughter, gathering the sheepish woman in his arms.

She burrowed into his embrace, smiling in spite of herself as his deep laughter resonated against her ear. Warm, masculine hands roamed her back and shoulders, soothing some of her chagrin. She wriggled her hands beneath Raymond’s robe, skirting her nails along his back and torso.

“There are worse things, Rosalie. But, you know, we can easily remedy this whole clothing situation.” Red intoned, fingering the zipper of her skirt pointedly.

“Mmm…” Rosalie nuzzled deeper into his hold, “I need to unload the contents of those first.” She grumbled, pointing at the offending items on the kitchen’ marble island. 

An amused chuckle met her ears, “We’ll do it quickly,” Raymond compromised, his chin resting atop her blonde curls. A firm hand dropped to pat her bottom, ushering Rosalie into the kitchen as he released her.

The man set about unboxing the kitchen supplies first. Staples like olive oil, vinegar, butter, and salt were packed neatly within. Alongside those were an assortment of other ingredients including herbs, proteins, and a colorful array of vegetables. Everything was wonderfully fresh, ensuring they would have delicious meals for the week. Raymond was already throwing together ingredients in his mind, eager to sample what Rosalie would come up with and hopefully show off his own culinary prowess as well. 

While Red was filling the small fridge to capacity with their haul, Rosalie unpacked the requested linens, tucking them safely into the bedroom’s dressers. Fluffy towels and a warm throw blanket followed after, the latter being draped over the sofa’s arm.

One large parcel was left, the mystery box she had ordered. 

“What’s this?” Questioned Raymond, staring thoughtfully at the stark black labeling on the box’s exterior.

“It’s a box of our staples, specific to this house.” Rosalie answered, continuing her march toward the bath, the stack of fluffy towels in tow.

His curiosity sufficiently piqued, Red popped the lid on the mysterious package. Within the box was an assortment of his most favored items.

A jar of wildflower honey was nestled beside his preferred bath products. The chocolates he requested sat alongside several bottles of Châteux Margaux in varying vintages, as well as a smaller bottle of his favorite scotch. Along with a few of the stolen Cubans from the Castro debacle, a deep blue robe was folde inside, framed by staples Red recognized as belonging to Rosalie.

The man grinned as he saw her smaller robe in a pale grey cashmere, two tubes of lip balm she was notorious for leaving behind, a small bottle of her preferred gin, and a variety of other accoutrements specific to her.

“Box _BOR13S.”_ Chimed Rosalie from the doorway, seeing the man had already broken into the treasure trove.

“What does that acronym stand for?” Asked Red, unloading the exciting bounty. 

“The first and last letters correspond to the type of home and the season, respectively. B for blacksite, H for safehouse, the letter at the end is S for Summer, F for Fall, etcetera.” Rosalie explained, taking the liquor to the nearby bar cart. “The number corresponds to my master list for blacksites. If this were merely a safehouse, it would have the street name or nickname. The letters before that, O&R, indicate the last names of the occupants, in this case, just you and I.”

“And if we had Dembe and Horace with us?” Raymond asked, putting some of the small batch Ecuadorian coffee beans he so enjoyed in the nearby grinder.

“Then there would be a Z and a J in that grouping as well.” She said, picking up the tall bottles of Château Margaux and carefully storing them in the wine fridge, already set at the appropriate temperature for the vintage.

“This is how you do it, catering your homes to your specific clientele?” The man asked, pleased at unravelling of a portion of the maze that was her empire.

“That’s the gist of it,” Rosalie nodded slyly, “Though only my top tier clients get the full treatment. I can’t cater to every Tom, Dick, or Harry.”

Red glanced again at the O stamped on the box’s side, a point of curiosity occurring to him.

“Many criminals go by a moniker or mononym of some sort. You don’t. Why is that?”

“I’ve always considered such things to be earned or at the very least bestowed by the masses. Giving oneself such a name gives off a distinct air of fragile ego. I much prefer-” she halted her explanation, staring mouth agape at Reddington. “Um… Please tell me you didn’t choose ‘The Concierge of Crime’?”

Raymond nearly snorted with laughter, “No, my dear, I didn’t choose any of the monikers I’ve been bestowed. I prefer to simply go by my name.”

The woman relaxed visibly, glad she had not accidentally insulted him. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously when a mischievous smile quirked at Red’s lips. “What?” She asked.

“Nothing.” He said, still grinning to himself.

Rosalie wasn’t fooled, her gaze fell steadily on the man, willing him to fess up.

Raymond found the exchange rather amusing, truth be told. He finally relented with a snigger. “How about, ‘The Ill-Behaved Innkeeper?’” 

His counterpart laughed aloud at the suggestion. “Absolutely not.”

“‘Mistress of the House’?” He intoned, swaggering toward her.

She wrinkled her nose. “No.”

“They could call you _Mistress_ for short.” He purred, popping the buttons of her blouse with a casual flick of his index finger.

Rosalie gasped as the swell of her breasts was exposed to him.

Red flashed a devious grin, slowly backing her into the bedroom. 

“ _Madam Aubergiste_?” He growled, the French lilt rolling delightedly off his tongue.

Rosalie mewed, arousal already pooling within her. “ _L’Aubergiste c’est ennuyeux_ ,” she insisted, reaching down to tug roughly at his robe. “Tell me more about this _Mistress_ business.”

An enticing growl could be heard from her captive as the woman took control, pulling the Concierge of Crime into a tangle of limbs.

*****************************************************************************************************

Rosalie stood in the kitchen, tossing back water as though she had spent the past week in the Sahara. Something about the way she had been making the bed had awakened Raymond's arousal, resulting in a spirited quickie which had left her bent over the foot of the bed, spent and quaking from its intensity.

The damn bed still wasn’t made.

Their antics had grown more rambunctious, more uninhibited as time passed in the blacksite. It seemed no surface was safe from their bouts of rapacious need. 

Rosalie had become intimately acquainted with every piece of furniture in the home, to include the bedroom dresser and more than one of the enormous floor to ceiling windows. The woman giggled softly, shaking her head when she recalled how Raymond had delighted in having her assume the position against the glass surface.

Down the hall, the door of the master bedroom opened with a click.

The man in question prowled into the living space, seeking out his lover. He found her where she stood, glass raised mid-sip. Red’s green eyes raked her with a bravado borne of seeing her come undone at his slightest provocation.

He knew, now, what made her wild, what coaxed the primal creature within her out to play. He knew what it took to make her tremble and shake, to cry out his name like he was the patron saint of her ecstasy. 

Rosalie was caught behind the man’s burning gaze, green orbs holding her paralyzed as the Concierge of Crime closed in on her. 

“I’m not finished with you, pet.” He crooned, reaching to cradle her sex lovingly.

Rosalie quaked, her over-sensitized nerves screaming their desire as two large fingers traced the outline of her swollen lips.

The woman’s arms latched around Red’s neck, pulling his mouth to hers as she was lifted to the nearby countertop. She reached between them and plucked the loosely tied string of his sleep pants. Her little hands tugged on the waistband, pulling her growling counterpart closer to her while loosening the garment’s drawstrings.

The man eased the delicate straps of her negligee down her shoulders, watching with undisguised delight as the garment pooled at the dip in her waist.

Rosalie felt her breasts tighten under his intense gaze. “How is it possible for you to make me ache just by looking at me?” She wondered aloud, arching into the sensation of his warm mouth dragging along the plump mounds.

The woman tugged deftly at the man’s bottoms, sending the garment pooling to the floor. A little mewl of arousal issued from her mouth as she felt his rock hard head brush her sex.

The unbridled feminine sound gave the man gooseflesh.

Raymond had preemptively donned another condom, confident she would be receptive to his advances. He let out a soulful groan as the tip of his cock breached the welcoming warmth, happy to be reunited with the tight, wet little alcove.

A firm hand pressed on Rosalie’s sternum, urging her to lie back on the cool marble of the countertop. They had quickly learned the surface was the perfect height for activities _not_ involving cooking.

Rosalie moaned throatily as his length worked its way into her tight heat.

Red watched in awe as the glistening shaft delved slowly into the sodden little hole, the visual combining with the incredible feeling of her quivering body relenting to his delightful intrusion.

“If there is anything more enticing than this, I’ll eat my hat.” He vowed, his eyes torn between watching the steady drag of his cock and watching the woman’s hands, which were rolling and pinching her own nipples.

“Mmm…” moaned Rosalie, trailing slender digits down her body to feel where he was spreading her open. The small fingers brushed teasingly along the man’s length with each stroke. 

A mischievous little smile played upon her features as Rosalie looked coyly up at her lover. “I think you’re obsessed with pinning me to things, Raymond.” She teased, a high-pitched gasp tumbling from her mouth as he thrust sharply into her.

“How could anyone blame me…” Red grunted, lifting one of her slender legs to his shoulder, “when _this_ is the view I’m afforded?” He gestured at her sprawled out form, his hand lingering in the area of her breasts, which were bouncing with each impact of his body against hers.

“Besides,” he circled his thumb gently over her clit, “I think you enjoy a man who can _stand and deliver_.” He quipped, the rogue comment bringing grins to both their faces.

Rosalie knew there was no argument for that accusation, she had been spurring her lover on every step of the way, instigating her fair share of their debauched escapades.

“Touché, _lover boy._ ” She conceded with a sigh, opening further to the pleasure he gave.

Raymond groaned, increasing the tempo of his thrusts and reaching forward to fondle one of her breasts.

A wanton cry reached his ears as Rosalie’s back arched in pleasure. “ _Right there,_ huh, little dove? ” He crooned knowingly, doubling his efforts against the sweet spot he had found.

Rosalie nodded desperately, a whimper escaping her lips as her toes began to curl.

Red held tight, keeping her feminine frame just where he wanted her as the sound of their bodies colliding filled the room. He turned to place a kiss to the leg draped against his shoulder. “I’ll give you what you need.” Raymond promised, thrusting steadily into her center. He continued to pound against her bruised depths until he felt her hips begin to buck and writhe against him.

“ _Please_ ,” she groaned, kneading one of her breasts in time with his thrusts. Her other hand dropped down to Red’s which had been gripping her hip tightly.

The man threaded his thicker digits with her slender ones without a word, enjoying the intimate gesture as her vital young body wound tight around his aching cock.

“Give in, little dove _.”_ Raymond hissed, loving the ripple of pleasure pulsing through her sex. “ _There’s no way I’m stopping_.”

The words took the woman easily over the edge. Hearing his loving, attentive words in that delicious, rumbling drawl made her legs spasm around her lover, who, to his credit, didn’t lose a single beat in his pleasurable pace.

**************************************************************************************************

As far as Rosalie and Raymond were concerned, it could have been three hours or three days since Lucas dropped off the supplies. Between the distinct lack of clocks in the house, their own amorous priorities, and the endless sunset pouring through the windows, the pair had little awareness of the outside world.

Neither one minded, finding they thoroughly enjoyed the lack of timekeeping and responsibilities. They followed the natural rhythm their bodies settled into, ate when they were hungry, slept when they were exhausted, and spent the remainder of their time enjoying each other’s company.

Being natural night owls, they had managed to completely flip their sleep schedules in a short amount of time. They knew this because the sun followed a horizontal line across the house from left to right. The further right the sun was, the later it was in the day. Seeing the bright rays as far right as possible, they could deduce it was somewhere around midnight, and the cohorts had been up for at least a few hours. 

Regardless of the time, they planned to actually venture outdoors, the beautiful Norwegian countryside beckoning them for a little outing. It had been Raymond’s suggestion, after the man stumbled upon a wicker picnic basket in a hall closet. The idea captured both their interests, and the pair took to their plans with gusto, looking forward to an impromptu date outside the safehouse.

Rosalie was just finishing packing an assortment of culinary delights when Red strode out of the master suite in his standard suit, a sharp grey waistcoat paired with dark blue slacks, and a chocolate brown tie matching perfectly with his chosen fedora. He cut an impressive figure, striding across the home to nab a book from the shelves to take with them. The man tucked it neatly in the basket before lifting the whole assortment with a steady hand.

Rosalie took his offered arm, stopping to grab the large throw blanket from the sofa before following him out into the cool grounds.

Depending on the way they looked at it, it was either very late in the evening or the wee hours of the morning, meaning it was all of 50 degrees when they stepped out of the safehouse. This didn’t seem to matter as the pair donned their jackets and hurried outside.

Rosalie led the way, taking them along a pebbled path in a wide arc heading North of the house. 

They settled into a comfortable silence, enjoying the leisurely stroll. 

As they rounded the curving trail, Raymond leaned to kiss her cheek, glancing appreciatively at the dress she wore beneath her leather jacket. It was a lovely warm taupe color, in a wrap style which hugged her figure nicely. The soft cashmere demanded Red’s fingertips graze her curves, beckoning him with its rich texture. He stopped them in the middle of the path, an arm wrapping around the warm little bundle and pulling her close. 

Rosalie beamed up at him, batting her lashes in a coy fashion before pressing her lips to his. It was a sweet, gentle kiss, warm and affectionate rather than the hot and bothered caresses they had been engaging in the past few days. The change of pace was appreciated by both, who sighed their enjoyment before continuing their walk along the property.

Twenty minutes later found the pair curled up on the large blanket beneath a lone towering tree. It was a curious looking thing, piquing Red’s curiosity instantly. 

“Is this a Harlequin Maple?” He asked, reaching to pick up one of the broad leaves, admiring its pale green border and dark emerald center.

“It is,” nodded Rosalie, “The property is full of Harlequins, Crimson Kings, Birch, and Spruce, a few were naturally occurring, but I added many as I could get to grow when I first bought the place. Lucas is now in charge of making sure the local plant life flourishes.”

Raymond settled with his back against the heavy trunk, setting his hat on the blanket along with his glasses. “You’re quite the horticulturist.” He commented, thinking back to several of the safehouses they had stayed in over the past year. Each and every one had native plants of some kind either out in the grounds or in elegant pots within the home. 

“I’m an innkeeper, land is part of who I am, plus, I have a fondness for things that grow.” Agreed Rosalie, settling the picnic basket at one end of the blanket before moving to curl up with Raymond. “My mother taught me how to tend a variety of plants. We had a little garden when I was young, a place to grow vegetables, fruits, and flowers during the summer.”

Red pulled the woman so she rested between his legs, reclining serenely against his chest. “What did you grow?”

“Peppers, potatoes, garlic, squash, Momma did the tomatoes, I was pants at those.”

“What did the tomatoes have against you?” He questioned, twirling one of her honey-colored curls around his finger.

“I don’t know,” She mused, “if I looked at them wrong they’d wilt and die. I think they did it out of spite, that, or the dog peed on them.” A wide grin graced her lips when she heard Raymond’s full, genuine laugh.

“You had a dog?”

“Of course we had a dog, some kind of Great Pyrenees mix named Ralph. Sweet as pie, but God did Ralph have a lot of energy. He used to chase the horses to blow off steam and my Dad would get so mad…” Her voice trailed off at the memory. 

In their time together, Rosalie and Raymond had spoken very little about their respective childhoods, a piece here, a memory there. The woman’s thoughts wandered back to her formative years, wondering if she and the man holding her would ever be in a scenario where they could tell each other the truth about who they had been and the lives they had lost to become who they were now.

Raymond’s mind drifted off with her. A young Rosalie scampered about before his eyes, wild blonde curls fanning out behind her, all squeals and giggles as she ran through the soft grass after a lively little pup. Red could smell the scent of wet earth, see the stains left behind by the soil on her small feet. He watched in amusement as the turbulent grey eyes turned sullenly toward a withering tomato plant being coaxed back to life by a faceless blonde woman. 

“…Did you ever have a dog?” Rosalie asked, glancing thoughtfully up at him. 

Raymond shrugged, “We did. Though, I don’t remember having him very long. My father wasn’t particularly fond of pets.” 

The woman fiddled with his tie, her brow furrowing slightly at his response. “Was he kind, your father?” 

A pointed silence met this question. Red thought of the man, a barely contained snarl tugging at his upper lip. He wondered how much he should tell his lover, how much he could afford for her to know. “Not particularly. He was a bit astringent, hard headed, not terribly affectionate.” Raymond admitted honestly, deciding this bit of information wasn’t too damning. He added, “I was much closer to my mother. She was infinitely kind, understanding. The kind of woman who made every insurmountable mountain seem like a mole hill, so deep was her love.”

This soothed Rosalie greatly, a gentle smile warming her lips, glad for the knowledge his childhood was not without love and affection. The innkeeper turned and peered softly up at her counterpart, her fingers still absently stroking his tie.

A smile twitched at Raymond’s lips, seeing her so pleased by what little he had divulged.

They nestled closer together, the cool breeze chilling them slightly.

Raymond leaned to pluck the book he’d brought from the basket. Settling Rosalie deeper in his hold, he flipped the book open and began to read aloud in his deep, soothing drawl.

********************************************************************************************************

They remained in this position for a long while, enjoying the simple pleasure of a good book in the beautiful outdoors.

Rosalie traced the knot in his tie until she could unravel and re-tie it in her mind, she then moved to his waistcoat, running her fingertips along the neckline and down to the breast pocket, feeling the outline of a small rectangle within. She wondered what it could be. Did Raymond really carry stamps? ‘ _No_ ,’ she thought, ‘ _it seems too big for that_.’ A ticket, perhaps, or some sort of business card?

Red could all but hear her mind whirring in the background, her intrigue regarding his attire resurfacing. He had forgotten about the small old photo which was usually tucked in his breast pocket. It was there moreso out of habit than anything, and he had been far too distracted of late to tuck it away for good. 

It was not as though Raymond did not want to share this with her, it was simply too soon for her to know. He placed a warm palm over her hand, ceasing its movement while keeping it pressed firmly to his chest. 

Rosalie’s eyes flitted up to her lover’s, a question being silently raised about the item in his pocket. 

Raymond held her gaze steadily, communicating she was more than welcome to continue perusing his person, but the item she was currently outlining was off limits. “One day soon, we _will_ talk about it.” He promised, brushing his thumb along the back of her hand. “Just not today. That little square will raise more questions than it could ever answer, and I, for one, want nothing more than to spend these few precious days focused solely on _us_.”

Rosalie searched his expression, finding it genuine. She understood what he meant, this uninterrupted time alone was extremely important to Raymond, as it was to her. This week was a rare moment to grow together, to solidify their connection, to play those games which only lovers played in the quiet sanctity of a space all their own. 

The cold hard truth of the lives they had built for themselves was these times would be few and far between in their relationship. Though they would do everything in their power to make time, though they would be together day in and day out, would sleep in the same bed at night and wake curled together in the morning, they would have to contend with the world they lived in. They would have to share their precious time with associates, clients, allies and enemies, not to mention their ever-present security. There would always be something or someone to get in the way. There would come a day to discuss the past, to answer questions, to delve deep into the murky depths hidden behind them both, but it was not today. 

These few days, passing in passionate hours spent together in an endless pursuit of the deepest intimacy and connection, these were the days which were fleeting. These were the ones which must be left undisrupted by the bitter winds of a long-forgotten past. 

This time would be impossible to regain.

Without another word, Rosalie turned and placed soft, warm lips to his knuckles, quite content with his answer.

Raymond bent and nuzzled her delicate nose affectionately with his own, any anxiety he’d had sidelining her question soothed by the warmth and understanding in her eyes.

“We never finished our discussion about your suits.” Rosalie reminded, giving him an avenue out of the conversation.

Red took it gratefully, “You’re absolutely right. How forgetful we are.”

The pair had gotten distracted amidst their teasing about criminal nicknames, which led to a very enlightening lovemaking session in which Rosalie learned Raymond quite liked her dominant side. They both looked amusedly at each other, the heated memory taking any remaining chill out of them.

The man set his book aside, settling into the task of satisfying their mutual curiosity. “Fire away, my dear.”

Rosalie’s expression lit with inquisitiveness, an arsenal of questions queueing up in her mind. “ _Why_ the suits?” She asked, leading with the most broad and pressing of her questions. 

“Three reasons: practicality, perception, and preference.”

The blonde’s head tilted thoughtfully, “I’m sorry, how is a three-piece _suit_ practical?”

“Easily,” explained Red, “I need attire with several pockets, that’s lightweight, and allows me to move. A good suit is incredibly comfortable when done right, and if you plan ahead, offer a necessary amount of practicality. I don’t wear off the rack for this very reason. I have tailors on call all over the world to build these suits to my exact specifications. This isn’t merely to suit my style, those fittings are where the built-in storage is planned out, any bespoke modifications are done on-site with my tailors. I’ve had everything from micro chain mail imbued waistcoats to poison-laced buttons.” 

Rosalie’s eyebrows raised slightly, recalling the older gentleman who often showed up at the safe house in New York for Raymond’s fittings. He was quite mild-mannered, it would be hard for anyone to believe he ran a side business specializing in poisonous suit buttons. She listened intently, however, the explanation touching on a point of curiosity for her which hadn’t yet been sated. “All those layers, though, doesn’t it make it more difficult for you to move, to stay cool?”

Raymond shook his head, “Like I said, not when it’s done right. The layers are highly practical for regulating my body temperature. You and I have gone from the sweltering Moçâmedes to a snow-capped village outside of Zermatt in the span of a few short hours, having several layers makes me impervious to such movements.” 

Rosalie nodded her understanding. “Perception,” she wondered aloud, “does your suit operate as a kind of status symbol?”

Red sing-songed his head, “Yes, in a way, the suit helps to confirm my standing in the criminal circles. As long as I appear to be wealthy and moving unrestrainedly, I am the kind of criminal society wants to do business with.”

The woman found this notion reasonable, she herself had taken comfort in the man’s attire when they first met. Rosalie recalled how the suit had somehow convinced her Raymond Reddington couldn’t be a complete ne’er-do-well, as he had looked like the kind of criminal she would normally do business with. “It reinforces your reputation, the persona you bring into negotiations.” She said slyly, catching on to the broader meaning behind ‘perception’.

“Exactly.” Agreed Raymond with a clever grin. “Each piece I don allows me to settle further into my role as the Raymond Reddington the criminal world knows and loves to hate. It’s like armor, insulating me from the filth I submerge myself in every day. This compounds into a very specific physical presence which gets carried beyond every interaction I have. Before you know it, my reputation is preceding me, from the upper echelons to the lowly bottom feeders, and it has saved me a great deal of time, money, and hassle over these past few years. Loyalty is everything in our world, but reputation is a close second.”

Rosalie understood his meaning, her own empire being built on this well-known premise. “Reputation, greater than any product or service, is the true stock and trade of a criminal.” She agreed, catching Raymond off guard with her eloquence. “The criminal underworld doesn’t exactly have a Better Business Bureau. Our work is nearly always perpetrated by word of mouth, especially for empires like mine, which work very hard to stay out of the limelight.” She added, “When someone says they ‘ _know a guy who knows a guy,_ ’ they’re referring to people like me, and it is imperative I keep it that way.”

Raymond grinned, “You’ve done quite well in that regard. There is so much mystery surrounding you and your operation, the criminal elite are flocking to your side in droves, certain you can disguise their movements as well as you hide your own. I have a feeling your attire, in a way, serves to add to your mystique.”

Rosalie’s brows furrowed, not sure if she agreed with the statement. She certainly didn’t choose her wardrobe dependent upon mystery factor, or at least, she didn’t think she did. 

Red’s eyes grew bright, the opportunity for them both to learn something about her, together, seeming to appear out of thin air. “Think of your most favored clothes.” He supplied, holding her gaze with interest, “Whether you recognize it or not, you have definitive preferences.”

Rosalie closed her eyes, mentally sifting through her entire wardrobe. “I also prefer layers.” She began, looking to him for confirmation. 

The man nodded, “You do, and you dislike summer for this very reason. You can’t tolerate the amount and types of layers you normally prefer.” His eyebrows flitted upward knowingly, waiting for her to recognize her own predilections.

A smile suddenly appeared on her lips, “I like a trench, on top of the jacket you gave me.” She whispered, seeing the pattern for the first time.

“Pockets upon pockets and windproof to boot,” Red chuckled, “And under that?”

“Cashmere, either a cardigan or sweater,” Rosalie realized, thinking of the assorted colors of the garment she carried with her wherever she went. 

Raymond nodded, stroking the warm softness of her dress. “This textile is your signature. I don’t think you recognized your preference for it until now. Notice how you didn’t even mention the plethora of lighter attire you’ve worn this summer? Whether you’re in your standard uniform or winding down for the night, you prefer a touch of cashmere.” Rosalie watched as the man’s eyes grew slightly hooded, his tone dropping to a knowing murmur. “You dislike being places where it’s hot because you don’t have those layers protecting you the way you like. You have to settle for button downs and blouses, most often in silk. You like them but they also make you feel…exposed.”

Those deep grey eyes blinked up at him, curiosity bright in their depths. “How did you know?” She asked, awed and yet slightly perturbed. The man had touched on the matter with such accuracy, it worried Rosalie. Was she really so easy to read?

“I spend every day with you, my dear.” Raymond reassured her, “If I didn’t notice these things, I would be concerned.”

The woman still fidgeted, assimilating the fact that Stratos hadn’t been embellishing when he spoke of Reddington. “ _He will learn you. Will know your every want, what it takes to win your heart, to earn your trust_.” 

Raymond was learning her, and apparently had been doing so for quite some time. The thought warmed the young woman, assuring her the man before her carried no ill intent. 

The man in question waited patiently for Rosalie to become comfortable with the information he had divulged. He was not abashed in the slightest for watching her so closely, for getting to know her every preference. Red was nothing if not thorough, especially when taking a lover. He _wanted_ to know these things about her, he _wanted_ to understand her, to be able to give her everything she needed, just as he knew she wanted those things from him. 

Rosalie smiled fondly up at him, recognizing the specific desire held in his gaze. She had felt the same call from the earliest moments of their acquaintance. 

They had finally reached the point where their curiosity was evenly matched, and Raymond was wasting no time in his pursuit of every facet of Rosalie.

The woman’s nerves settled, a dark corner of herself opening to her lover before his very eyes. She chose her words carefully, outlining the pieces of her criminal persona as she saw them.

“My wardrobe is built upon practicality, perception, and preference.” She quoted with a grin, “In different measures than yours, but similar principles all the same.”

Rosalie nestled once again into his hold, resting her hand on his outstretched thigh and brushing her thumb back and forth. “Like you, I’ve found practicality in layers. Unlike you, my practicality, up until this point, has focused on stealth and versatility. You need the arsenal of pockets, the custom fits and materials, because your empire puts you in highly dangerous scenarios quite often. You need to be able to go into a fire fight at a moment’s notice.” 

Raymond nodded his agreement, beckoning her to continue.

“Up until the past year or so, I had rarely ever been in the line of fire. I’ve worked from the hidden corners of our world, dealing quietly in the commodities of secrecy and anonymity. My attire needs to facilitate my ability to disappear, often with clients in tow. This means I can’t strike anyone as odd or unforgettable whilst striking a deal or purchasing properties. For this reason, I’ve chosen a wardrobe with simple cuts and high end materials in classic styles. It’s meant to blend into the environment around me, not giving off the impression of being from anywhere in particular. It also serves to blur my age. No criminal wants to put their welfare in the hands of another, much less a young woman. Dressing in a way which presents older has served me well, especially in my early years…”

Raymond listened intently, fascinated as Rosalie picked apart the reasoning behind her choices not only in attire, but in persona. She was forthcoming and open with him, trusting him at long last with this closely guarded corner of her criminal side. It was a huge step forward not only for her, but for their relationship.

Rosalie continued, the words flowing easily now the avenue was open to her. “I protect people. I give them access to my homes, places to hide in safety without feeling like they are in hiding.” She sat up, to look Red in the eye, “This is the key difference between my network and any other. My homes don’t _feel_ like safehouses or blacksites. My clients don’t feel imprisoned by the walls around them. Everything about me and my organization is built to support this impression.”

Raymond beamed at her, immensely pleased by the awareness and cunning she showed. He led her further, “This is where perception comes into play.”

“Yes,” agreed Rosalie, easily taking up the new viewpoint. “I wear what is practical for me, but part of that practicality is what is suitable to my role. My attire must assist my needs and put my clients at ease.” Every deal the woman had made flitted through her memory, creating a pattern of colors, materials, and styles she hadn’t noticed until now.

“I’ve not made a single deal in a pair of pants!” She burst aloud, almost appalled at the realization.

Red let out a barking laugh, quite amused by the declaration. “Why do you suppose that is?”

Rosalie’s brow furrowed and she stared thoughtfully at Raymond’s tie before answering. “The overwhelming majority of my clients are men. More than eighty percent,” she confided, “Skirts and dresses soothe the titans I work with, makes them more comfortable in dealing with me. It soothes the women, though, too, I become less of a competitor in their eyes. Regardless of the gender, my clients are less threatened by me when I’m in more traditionally feminine attire.”

“Are you going on a crusade to land a big client whilst wearing pants?” Raymond teased, unable to help himself.

Rosalie giggled, shaking her head. “No, I actually prefer a skirt or a dress. For me, it’s actually more comfortable and less restrictive. I’m just really quite surprised by the fact. The feminine style works wonders, though, with potential clients I’m courting or current ones with ruffled feathers.”

The woman turned serious again as she discovered another truth. “The criminals I deal with are high on the food chain, and absolutely lethal if handled incorrectly.”

Red’s arms tightened ever so slightly. He had known this, of course, but the notion of her dealing with some of the more ruthless characters in their world made the man’s whole body twitch involuntarily.

“I’m one woman,” said Rosalie, “and before Horace, I was one woman without security. I found playing to my femininity an easy way to ensure I would have the upper hand in an altercation, because…” she trailed off, glancing up at Red.

“Because they would inherently underestimate you.” He finished for her. “They would think you a small, fragile female, easily put into place. They wouldn’t recognize the danger in you until it’s far too late.”

The woman nodded nervously.

“I made that very mistake in São Paulo.” Raymond reminded, thinking of the altercation with the switchblades.

“You did, in a way.” Agreed Rosalie, “I’m surprised, now, that you didn’t see right through me.”

“I knew something was off, I just couldn’t pin the specifics, so I let the situation roll for a while.” Red conceded, “I haven’t been a criminal this long without being set back on my heels once in a while, that day being one of those times. I learned a valuable lesson, so did Dembe.” He said this with a genuine smile, finding the tale rather amusing. 

Rosalie felt the need to explain herself, “I didn’t mean to pose a threat, it was just… You knew _my_ _name_ , and it scared the hell out of me. I desperately needed to gain an even footing in the exchange. I learned quickly in my work, warmth and vivacity are much better tools to keep me safe and help things move my way. More flies with honey than vinegar, you know?”

Raymond nodded, completely understanding her viewpoint. It would, of course, do no good for Rosalie’s clients to suspect she could wield even half the lethal cunning she possessed. He had not been offended or put off by her tactics at their first meeting. Truthfully, the man had been damn intrigued and more than a little turned on by the swaggering criminal he had stumbled upon. Rosalie had mastered the perilous art of the femme fatale and utilized it to forge and empire.

The man’s silence caused the nervousness in Rosalie to return full force. Her voice was rather timid when she next spoke.

“This is why I hesitated the other night, to let you see this side of me…” she whispered, “I don’t ever want you to think…” She lost her nerve, the truth of what was worrying her rearing its ugly head.

Raymond pulled her close, holding her eyes in a dark, unrelenting gaze. “I do not, nor have I ever, thought you were using your feminine wiles to manipulate me.” He stated emphatically, his soothing drawl carrying a low, gravelly note of displeasure. 

“I know a femme fatale when I see one, Rosalie. I’ve seen an endless parade of those creatures in my life. You’ve mastered the art, there is no doubt in my mind, yet you are missing one truth that is absolutely paramount.” His large hand reached to grasp Rosalie’s chin so those grey orbs could do nothing but hold his own. “You can portray the hardened criminal, can walk easily in her shoes, but she does not become you. She is merely a mask you don to serve a purpose.”

“You don’t know that.” Rosalie voiced her fear. How could he or anyone else she cared for tell the difference between the varied sides of what she had become?

Red understood now. She was afraid, afraid of never being known, of never being loved for herself, dark spots and all. His gaze softened with this understanding, his broad thumb moving to brush rhythmically along her cheek. “ _I_ can tell when you’ve stepped into her.” He assured, “ _I_ can tell the moment you’ve donned the mask all of us criminals have to wear.”

“The difference lies behind the eyes. A true femme fatale feels nothing, she can’t exhibit the warmth and affection you radiate simply by being. Their eyes don’t spark and dance with mirth, they don’t darken like a sea in a storm when their passion is aroused. Their eyes are hollow, little dove, and you have never, ever looked at someone you loved like that. 

“You can’t know, you couldn’t possibly-” she insisted, but Red cut her off.

“ _I can_.” He snarled, “The other day when you were going to deal with Lucas, I watched it happen before my very eyes.” A roguish smirk tugged at his features, “Your shoulders straightened, your chin tilted upward, and you looked back at me with a devilish little wink…”

He cupped her cheek willing her to believe his words, “I saw the mask drop and yet you were there clear as day behind it. I’ve been able to see these many sides of you from the day we met, Rosalie, and I’ve only ever wanted to know them better.”

Rosalie’s dark eyes misted slightly, “You… you do?” She asked, unable to hide the hopefulness in her voice. She did not know why it mattered so much to her, but the idea of Raymond being able to see and understand this side of her, it was more than Rosalie had thought she could ask from a romantic partner. The woman wrapped her arms tightly around Red, burying her face in his neck.

Raymond could tell this meant a great deal to her, that it had been quietly weighing on her mind. He enveloped her little frame with his, holding her close and nuzzling her comfortingly, “I know you’ve had to cultivate these lonely corners of you, like every criminal who’s ever lived, and you’re wondering how anyone could ever love those dark parts of you. My dear, I’m telling you now, I _positively_ _adore_ your criminal side. The moment you dip into that deviant, the second those little ankles cross and rest against that damn headboard, I’m lost.” He confessed, recalling in the days before they were dating, when Red would avoid walking past her bedroom, lest he be confronted by his weakness for the gorgeously inverted profile. 

“These varied sides of you are comforting familiarity. Because of them, I can be with you without feeling as though I’m somehow leading you astray. They make me feel like you understand me, why I do… am what I am.”

The pair recognized the deeper truth their conversation had unwittingly unearthed. They were both seeking understanding, to be well and truly known.

Words failed Rosalie at Red’s confession. Her nerves quietened and an overwhelming feeling of stability enveloped her. She knew, now, there was no part of her she would hold back from this man.

They wanted, _needed_ the same things, and were adamant on meeting those needs in each other.

A stifling passion crackled between them with the sudden intensity of a wildfire, coaxing Rosalie to crawl into her lover’s lap, feverishly claiming his lips. 

The man growled and pulled her snug to him, matching her intensity with ease. “This has been most enlightening, little dove.” He purred, bunching the material of her dress upward to reveal her beautiful thighs, bisected as always by garter straps. “There’s one last curiosity you haven’t satisfied,” he rasped, fingering one of the straps teasingly. 

“Why these tantalizing, painfully arousing delicates?”

Rosalie mewled at his touch, rutting needily against the bulge in his trousers. “I genuinely like my lingerie,” she uttered in that sultry little purr she reserved only for him. “It’s a closely guarded preference of mine, it just so happens to reinforce that femininity factor we discussed.” Her breath hitched as Red’s lips trailed along her slender neck, “They’re a practical preference, not unlike your fedoras.”

Raymond was terribly amused by this, lifting his head from her nape. “The fedoras serve a purpose.” He insisted, almost peevishly.

“You could wear any old hat, Raymond,” she retorted, directing him pointedly back to his pastime, “instead, you wear very fine fedoras, a signature every bit as iconic as your suits, and I adore them. Just like those garter straps you so love to peruse and play with are iconic to my wardrobe.” 

“You said they were practical.” He grunted, “What purpose could these little stockings possibly serve?”

“They keep my legs warm.” Growled Rosalie, without missing a beat. 

The pair chuckled merrily, unable to hold back their amusement as their exploring reached a fevered pitch.

“Let’s head back inside.” the woman all but demanded, squirming eagerly in his lap.

“There’s no way in hell I can wait that long.” Assured Raymond, sliding his roughened palms along her thighs and hips. 

“I’m open to suggestions.” Grinned Rosalie, her aroused intrigue quite obvious.

Raymond chuckled, “What happens if I pluck this bow?” He asked heatedly, twirling the cashmere tie of her dress around his finger in a lazy fashion.

“You’ll get one hell of a view.” Rosalie husked in his ear, “But I _will_ expect you to make love to me, here and now.”

“I accept those terms.” Red growled, casually tugging at the bow. The impeccably soft material parted like the wrappings of a present before him, baring his beautiful lover from head to toe, only her stockings and delicates left to shield her from the elements.

Raymond issued a heated groan, his cock swelling with the view of her pert breasts tightening in the cool Norwegian air. That smattering of freckles he so adored speckled merrily up at him and her bra’s lace cups did nothing to hide the taut, pink nipples straining against the nearly sheer fabric. The item’s catch was blessedly in the front, allowing Red to unclasp the garment and release the perfect mounds to his ardent attention. His warm hands reached immediately to cup their heavy softness, circling the tight little buds with his thumbs and reveling in the woman’s shivering gasps of pleasure.

Her small hands moved searchingly, desperate for skin on skin contact to no avail with her lover’s suit perfectly intact.

Raymond pitched them both forward, laying Rosalie softly beneath him. His comforting warmth wrapped lovingly around her, keeping her nearly naked form sheltered against his.

Rosalie reached between them, undoing the man’s belt as well as the button to his trousers.

“In my pocket,” Red grunted, latching his mouth around a chilled pink nipple.

Rosalie whimpered, wriggling her hand into his pants pockets, finding a condom and tearing it open. Her soft hands gently sought him, pulling his aching shaft from the confines of his boxers. The appendage was hot and heavy in her grasp, garnering a desperate little mewl of longing from her as she stroked him, settling the condom into place.

Rosalie tilted her hips up in invitation, willing her lover to take her. 

Red’s eyes turned dark at the sight of her seeking him so openly. “That’s it, little dove,” he crooned, “Give me all of you.”

His lover nodded, positively restless for his touch.

Raymond reached between them with deft fingers, pulling aside the soaked lace which covered her pussy. 

She gasped when a whisper of cold air hit the intimate alcove, reminding her how very exposed she was. “Please, Raymond,” she whispered, burrowing into his warm hold.

The man’s hard length immediately sought out its favored sanctuary, parting the petal soft lips with his thick head. 

The woman beneath him mewed, wrapping her toned legs about his waist and resting her heels at the base of his spine. His heavy cock nestled against her cervix as the man bottomed out, making her back bow in pleasure.

A thready gasp issued from them both as he slowly withdrew, only to thrust back into her in one long, delicious stroke.

“ _Oh, Raymond_.” Rosalie breathed in his ear, nibbling the man’s neck as he seated himself once more in her slick depths.

There was no need for words as the ravenous pair sought their pleasure.

Raymond languidly roamed every inch of her naked frame, leaving a trail of goosebumps from her head to her toes. The sensation of her sodden lace panties occasionally brushing against his shaft made him moan raggedly. 

Rosalie had only small portions of Red’s bare skin available to her. As such, her efforts were focused on his neck, ears, and the firm cheeks of his backside. This suited her just fine as she kneaded the tight muscles rhythmically, urging her lover as far as possible into her tight heat.

Raymond snarled his approval, gripping the backs of the woman’s thighs with rough palms and pressing them down into the blanket. With Rosalie’s knees near her chest, his cock sank impossibly deep, giving his lover every last inch of him. 

Both their mouths parted in a sensual ‘o’ of delight as Red’s thick member was buried to the hilt within her.

The sensation of the man’s hot hard length rocking a steady rhythm deep inside her core robbed Rosalie of speech as the angle stroked new sweet spots within her. “ _Oh, yes,_ ” she whimpered once she was able to utter a sound, “Right, right there. ”

Red felt her thighs give a little spasm, her orgasm bearing down on her.

The sensation of that lithe muscle twitching beneath his fingertips was absolutely sinful, enticing him to the edge with her.

“Come for me little dove , take us both there.” Raymond husked against Rosalie’s ear, pinning her quivering form safely beneath him as her body readily surrendered to his.

Their lovemaking mirrored the connection forged in the openness they shared… There would be times in which one of them would feel bare, naked and vulnerable, but they would trust the other to always be there to shelter them in the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: Kalsarikännit
> 
> With a thunderous _’BOOM’ _, every light in the tower blew out.__  
>  A frisson of excitement ran through the two fugitives, finding themselves cast into darkness.


	19. Kalsarikännit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life has once again made a liar out of me... But, to make it up to you, this chapter is damn long. ❤️  
> Thank you all for your patience and for reading, as always, I love to hear from you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: _'Let's Make it Last' _by Ray LaMontagne__

Raymond woke to a pitch dark room, his senses on high alert. The complete lack of light set the man on edge, having already grown accustomed to the endless sunlight of the Norwegian safehouse. He turned with a scowl to find Rosalie nowhere in sight, arousing his suspicion further. Swinging his legs to the edge of the bed, Red marched to the wall of windows and flung the heavy curtains wide.

A dark and volatile swath of clouds covered the normally brilliant sky, blanketing the landscape in a cold and dreary haze. A light drizzle had begun to speckle the windows with droplets of water, the sound wonderfully soothing to the man’s ears.

Across the safehouse, the soft lull of the stereo could finally be heard, mixing with the sound of pots and pans being shifted about in the kitchen. 

Raymond relaxed, satisfied they weren’t in any immediate danger. A grin flitted across his features as he looked out at the expanse of stormy sky. It had been quite some time since the man had been able to simply enjoy a quiet day lazing about with a lover. 

He and the young innkeeper had returned from their picnic chilled to the bone some time ago. Rosalie had pulled him into a piping hot shower, thoroughly warming them both before settling into a cozy cuddling session in the massive bed. They had fallen into a deep sleep shortly after, as Red could recall pulling the woman against his side and laying his head on one of the comfortable pillows before everything went blank. 

It had been a perfect way to spend the day, and frankly, the man wasn’t ready for it to end. Thankfully, the rainy weather was the perfect excuse for them to once again spend the day curled up together.

His desired plans for the next several hours in mind, Raymond donned a fresh pair of sleep pants and went in search of Rosalie.

Upon opening the bedroom door, Red’s senses were flooded by a most delightful scene.

The cool darkness of the bedroom dissipated into the warmth and cheeriness of the kitchen. An old Patti Labelle record crackled from the stereo, echoing an upbeat disco number as Raymond’s eyes fell on the vision of his lover padding about the open space, a saucy little shimmy in her step. 

A bright smile lit her features as she hovered over the stove, tending to the contents of a heavy cast iron dutch oven. The mouth-watering scent of sautéing beef, red wine, garlic and mushrooms hung deliciously in the air.

Rosalie’s hair was in a riot of curls pinned into a French twist, a few tendrils falling to tickle her cheeks and neck.

Red was floored when he recognized his shirt was the only thing covering her curvaceous frame, a scant three buttons holding the garment on. The sleeves were rolled up, allowing her to work as she pieced together the heavenly smelling dish on the stove. The white color contrasted beautifully with her skin, and the thin dove grey stripes running the garment’s length brought out the shine of liquid metal in her eyes as she turned, noticing his presence.

“Hi,” Rosalie smiled, fidgeting a little as Raymond’s gaze trekked ever so slowly up her frame, seeming to savor the view.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she mumbled, looking down at the shirt, “I really didn’t want to get dressed.”

Red let out a warm, sultry laugh as he stepped toward her, reaching out to cup her cheek. “I have seen you in several stunning dresses, my dear. A fair share of delectable skirts, and some truly lovely blouses. But…” He sighed, tracing featherlight fingertips along her collarbone. “My God, woman, how I’ve longed to see you just like this. Wild curls, riddled with love bites and naked save for one of my shirts. The picture is intoxicating.”

Rosalie beamed up at him, her smile positively radiant. She had wondered if the man would be annoyed by her wearing the expensive garment in the kitchen, but it seemed he was nothing short of delighted by her thievery. To show her appreciation, the woman reached on her tiptoes and placed a chaste kiss to his lips.

Raymond deepened the contact, his hands dropping to Rosalie’s hips, the sensation of those soft curves beneath the slightly stiff fabric was positively decadent. 

The little woman was lifted to the nearby countertop, a soft squeal of surprise leaving her as she was deposited onto the cool marble.

“Is it cold, little dove?” Red teased, a smile playing at his mouth before he claimed her lips again.

Rosalie nodded, her legs wrapping about the man’s torso, pulling him closer. Her hot little mouth opened to him, sucking eagerly on his tongue when he set to teasing her with it.

Raymond released a hungry moan, his hands traveling the feminine frame in no set pattern.

Rosalie mewed and nibbled his bottom lip, dragging her nails along his scalp.

Goosebumps rippled down Red’s neck and shoulders at the action, a husky groan following unrestrainedly from his chest. 

He loved the way this woman kissed him. She always did so with every inch of her body, captivating Raymond from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes. 

He learned quickly how she liked to be wrapped around him, enveloping him in a cocoon of warmth and affection. It was a peculiarity he found quite endearing. 

Red hadn’t experienced such things with a lover before. There was so much more to her actions than simple lust. 

The way she nuzzled him, a show of affection he was rather partial to, truth be told, filled him with a serenity which seemed to touch the very foundations of his soul. The way she trailed her fingertips leisurely over his skin or carded them through his hair always relaxed him by several degrees. The woman never simply went through the motions, there was no undercurrent of underhandedness which he had learned to expect from many women in the past.

Rosalie treated him like a lover. She caressed him, kissed him, cuddled him, simply because she wanted to. Because she cared for him.

The realization had Red pressing deeper into the woman’s hold for want of more. His lips trailed along her cheeks and down her slender neck, pulling the sweetest little moans from her mouth.

They kissed deeply yet languidly, savoring the simple intimacy and all it implied.

“I can’t get enough of this delicate little mouth.” Raymond confessed, sucking greedily on Rosalie’s bottom lip. 

“Good,” the woman sighed her delight, “I love it when you do that.”

She felt the smile on the man’s lips as he leaned forward, the kiss deepening still.

Red feasted on the blonde until they were both thoroughly ruffled and gasping for air. When they finally broke, their breath mingled in steady huffs, their arms still held each other close.

Raymond swallowed thickly, humming his contentment and relaxing into her embrace. “What mischief are you getting up to in here, little dove?”

Rosalie grinned, glancing toward the stove with a look of distinct giddiness. “I’m getting dinner started, we slept the whole day away.”

“We did, did we?” Red’s gaze flicked to the oven’s display, seeing it was nearly six in the evening. 

“I thought boeuf bourguignon, in honor of our sudden descent into autumn.” The woman reasoned, nodding her head toward a shining Dutch oven on the stove. 

“It smells incredible.” Raymond complimented, taking a moment to lift the heavy lid from the pot and peer at the delicacy within. “I must say, it was odd waking to a dark room.” He added, replacing the lid and turning his head toward the multitude of windows, the sky beyond still resolutely dark.

Rosalie’s gaze followed his to the ominous looking landscape, “It’s supposed to storm for a couple of days.” She informed him, her tone positively buoyant.

“Is that so?” Purred Red, arms circling back around the woman.

“Mm-hmm…” She nodded, catching her plump bottom lip between her teeth. “We’ll probably lose power…”

Raymond smiled, enchanted by her obvious excitement. “I suppose we’ll have to find a way to…occupy ourselves.” He supplied, palming her full hips in an obvious nod to what his rainy day plans were.

Those deep grey eyes blinked innocently up at him. “We’ll have to share body heat, too,” Rosalie murmured seriously, playing her part to a T. “The temperature is going to drop to the low forties tonight, and we might not have heat…”

Raymond cocked his head thoughtfully, tracing her mouth with his thumb. “But darling, there’s a perfectly good fireplace right behind you.” He reminded in a solicitous tone, making quite a show of guiding her gaze to the fixture in question. This left the delectable majority of her throat exposed.

“It’s definitely broken.” Rosalie remedied without missing a beat. 

Red’s deep chuckle tickled against her pulse point, making her erupt in goosebumps as a smile full of mischief pulled at her lips. 

Truthfully, the man was enjoying the hell out of this playful interlude. It seemed his quick-witted minx was amenable to a little role-play. How very intriguing.

Raymond filed the bit of intel away for further research at a later date. More pressing needs were readily making themselves known.

“If there’s a chance we’ll lose power-”

“Probably, _definitely_ going to lose power.” Corrected Rosalie with an innocuous glance toward the electrical box hidden in the cabinet behind Red. 

The man roared with laughter, not entirely certain she wouldn’t blow the breakers to get her desired results.

“Then we should shower while we still have hot water.” He informed her with a nuzzle to the soft valley of her breasts, the top button of his shirt having mysteriously come undone. 

“Oh,” Rosalie sighed, catching onto his thought process. “Oh yes, we should to that right-” Her breath hitched when his warm, wet lips met her sternum, “... _right now_.”

****************************************************************************************

Twenty minutes later found the amorous pair encased in steam, a chorus of pleasured sounds echoing from the spacious glass shower.

Raymond had Rosalie backed against the wall, one of her knees hooked over his forearm while his ramrod erection sank endlessly into her welcoming heat. The woman’s mouth was being plundered by his relentless tongue as she clutched his broad shoulders for support. 

The long smooth strokes of Red’s cock were driving her crazy as her entire body was supported by his thrusting frame. The toes of the leg not draped over his arm skimmed the tile floor uselessly wiggling their pleasure as the woman seemed to burn from the inside out. 

“R-Raymond… _Please_.”

A guttural moan left Red’s lips as he felt her fight for release. “That’s it. Come for me, little dove.” He crooned, knowing by now how his deep voice in her ear could make the woman tip right over the edge. The man kept the drag of his shaft deep and steady into her shivering depths, feeling vital and alive as he led his lover toward ecstasy.

Rosalie shuddered, her climax drawing nearer. She palmed the back of Raymond’s head, silently begging for his lips on hers.

Red kissed her without hesitation. His tongue slid hot and wet back into her mouth, sensually matching the strokes of his cock below.

A ferocious moan vibrated along the writhing muscle when Rosalie couldn’t hold back any longer. Her scorching heat gripped his shaft in an unrelenting wave, trying desperately to keep him inside.

Raymond grunted his pleasure, thrusting into his lover without stopping. A well of hot cream engulfed his throbbing head as Rosalie whimpered, her hips rutting against his with abandon.

“So _good_ …” She panted, breaking the kiss, her body quaking as Red rode straight through her climax.

The man eased his movements when her sex finally slowed its convulsing. He gently shifted the woman to the floor, rotating them gently so he could take her from behind.

Rosalie shivered, her knees weak.

“Come here, Rosalie.” Raymond guided, desperate to be back inside her. He rested his back against the shower wall, pulling her toward him.

Rosalie leaned back into the comfort of his firm chest as Red hooked her knee once again, lifting her slender frame into his firm hold.

Their eyes were lust-blown and hooded as the man’s rigid length was aligned once again with its favored playmate.

The little hole was still pulsating as Raymond slid inside in one swift thrust. 

Rosalie cried out at the new angle. “ _Fuck_!” she swallowed, her body already winding tight in response to the welcomed intrusion.

Red smirked for the rare vulgarity which passed her lips. His mouth dropped to nibble her neck while the other moved to circle her clit with determined fingers.

Rosalie let out a feminine cry at the overstimulation, her thighs squeezing involuntarily, helplessly spread by Red’s strong grasp.

“Honey, do you have any idea what that sound does to me?” He moaned with fervor, thrusting tirelessly into her receptive body.

“It makes you fuck me harder?” Rosalie pleaded, her voice ragged and her walls twitching around the straining organ within her.

“God it feels good when you squeeze me like that.” Raymond gasped, his balls tightening at the sensation. “I think you like this new position as much as I do.”

Rosalie nodded fervidly, rocking to meet his powerful strokes, “Yes… _oh, yes_.” She gasped, her body bowing of its own accord.

She was so very close, Raymond hissed his frustration at his current predicament. The position they were in was spectacular for stroking the woman’s g spot and every other sensitive corner of her, but it didn’t allow Red to watch his lover in all her rapturous glory, a sight of which he was growing terribly fond. 

A wonderful spark of ingenuity hit him full force as he sought to garner the view he prized. With a grin for his own cleverness, Red leaned forward and opened the shower’s heavy glass door. 

Steam poured from the stall, allowing the pair an exciting show from where they stood.

“ _Look up, Rosalie_.” Raymond purred in his impossibly low baritone, barely able to keep his desire in check.

Two sets of eyes, both more pupil than iris, met in the mirror across the room. The bathroom was large, so the object’s surface was not yet fogged over. In its reflection, the pair stared in open awe as they watched every last inch of Raymond’s glistening shaft filling Rosalie’s eager sex.

The young woman couldn’t tear her gaze from the display, slender fingers slipping between her legs to feel the man’s girth parting her folds. “Oh...oh my God.” She gasped, the sensation of his thick, heavy cock sliding between her outstretched fingers combining with the raw visual stimuli to make her quiver from head to toe.

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Red murmured his amazement, “The way your tight little pussy opens for me, accepts me right to the hilt. It’s like you were made for me.” Raymond’s eyes were glued to her drenched quim being repeatedly impaled on his rigid length. He couldn’t get over the vision of her folds parting for him, greedily taking every inch he could provide. 

What truly made the man’s mouth drop open in broken reverence was the way he could actually see her body grip him. The lips of her sex held tight to his slick shaft with each thrust, following his retreat and trying like hell to hold him inside. A carnal moan tumbled through his chest, the sight holding him in a lust-fueled trance.

“I love when you moan like that.” Rosalie mewed, her nerve endings screaming their desire as she pushed back into her lover’s delectable frame.

Raymond’s chest hair scratched tantalizingly against her back and shoulders. The curls leading down to his groin teased the sensitive skin of her bottom every time he moved, driving the woman absolutely wild. 

Dark grey eyes looked up to their wicked reflections, enchanted once again by the vision of their lovemaking. “Raymond,” she cooed, reaching to grasp the back of the man’s neck. 

Red nuzzled her cheek, his eyes fluttering shut as overwhelming pleasure enveloped them both.

Rosalie could feel his enticing mouth agape, ragged huffs of air ghosting along her jaw as her lover sought completion. It was such a thrilling sensation, and knowing she was the woman instilling such need in him made her heart swell with delight. “I want you to come for me, just like this, just for me.” She whispered in a sultry purr, reaching down to caress his heavy sack with each thrust.

Red’s voice cracked with a delirious rasp, his body giving a violent spasm at the woman’s initiative. The soft fingertips rolled his balls superlatively, while those grey eyes, nearly black with lust, made the man’s knees buckle momentarily. 

“Oh, I’m going to come.” He assured her, tightening his grip and moving against her for all he was worth. His eyes refused to leave hers, “I’m going to come _deep_ inside your perfect little pussy.” 

The statement shook Rosalie to her very core, a mental image of Raymond’s thick cock, perfectly bare, sliding heavily between her thighs, forced its way unbidden into her mind. The thought was so painfully exciting, it brought the young woman forcefully toward her own peak.

“I can _feel_ you.” Husked Red in a knowing whisper, “I can feel your body giving into me, little dove. You’re starting to buck and twitch.”

The sinful comment combined with his hot breath against Rosalie’s ear to make her entire frame buckle. She was so close she could scream.

Masculine hands held her in a bruising grip while Rosalie rocked steadily back into her lover, feeling his hard head spreading her over and over. The steady force of the thick crown against her g spot made her ache, a white-hot tension settling in her belly. “Shit!…”  she hissed, feeling the coil within her tighten sharply.

One of her hands gripped the back of Raymond’s neck, the other clung to his back, her fingernails scraping along his gooseflesh covered skin. The woman’s head fell back against his shoulder, her mouth open and panting in desperate shudders. 

Red’s arm dropped to pet the hood of her sex with a firm hand, knowing precisely what would end her agony. An animalistic snarl filled the room, his powerful frame ravaging her more insistently.

“Oh… _oh_!…” she cried out, every inch of her a trembling wreck as her body relented to his coaxing. Her snug heat gripped the man’s driving shaft like a vice, demanding he summit this peak with her.

The pair watched the incredible scene unfold before their very eyes in the mirror. Two of Raymond’s thick digits danced over Rosalie’s clit as his other hand held aloft her right thigh, ensuring she could do nothing but shatter in his arms, her body completely open to him.

“Shit… _Yes_ …just like that.” Red moaned, feeling the rush of warmth and wetness engulf his cock head once again. “Don’t stop, little dove. I’m right there.” He begged, tonguing the hollow of Rosalie’s nape until a string of fevered cries cascaded from her throat. The sound spurred Raymond on, his strokes lengthening and his hands restlessly roaming every available inch of his lover until her clenching heat took him into utter bliss.

“God, _damn_ …” he gasped, feeling his balls spasm forcefully. “Rosalie, I’m… _there_ , right…there!” He snarled, white lights popping in his vision. 

“ _Fuck_ , I’m coming!”

Rosalie could feel his thick shaft throbbing in her entrance as Raymond spilled himself deep within her soaking depths. The pulsing sensation and the warmth of his release filling the condom made her shiver with its intensity. The man’s rasping breaths and ragged moans shimmered erotically along her nerve endings, coaxing a tremulous sigh from Rosalie’s lips.

Red pulled her more tightly to him, easing his thrusts with each pulse of his member as the last drops of his orgasm were emptied into the condom. “ _Rosalie_.” He husked, knees buckling with relief. 

The few remaining tremors of the woman’s pleasure fluttered along his length, pulling a feeble grunt from them both. 

Raymond slowly lowered his lover, easing her feet to the floor and ensuring they were firmly planted before allowing her to stand on her own. His shaft slid free from its warm home, heavy and thoroughly satisfied, the full condom clinging resolutely to the turgid appendage. The man couldn’t help but wonder, if their lovemaking was already this incredibly satisfying, what would it be like to make love to this woman with nothing between them? 

The very thought made his sated cock pulse with a delicious ache.

His thoughts were interrupted when an exhausted little blonde burrowed sleepily into his chest. Raymond instinctively gathered her in his arms, kissing the top of her head and stroking her back with gentle touches. The sweet fragrance of sex hung heavy in the steamy enclosure, a deeply comforting scent now their ravenous need had been appeased.

Rosalie ran her fingertips gently along Red’s chest and arms, soothing the man’s racing pulse by degrees.

Red reached to shut off the pulsing shower heads, smirking when the woman in his arms grumbled, tugging his hand back around her once the spray had stopped.

They stood there several long moments, simply holding and caressing each other. The rain outside had picked up to an absolute downpour, pelting the tall arched windows of the bath with fat, heavy raindrops. The sound was delightful, calming the exhausted pair further.

With a small shift of her torso, Rosalie reached down to grasp Red’s shaft, thrilling in the husky growl which left his lips. Her dark eyes held his steadily as she slid her grip down his length, freeing him from the spent latex. 

“ _Christ_ , woman” he groaned, the sensation overwhelming his hyper-sensitive flesh, causing him to buck against her firm hold.

Her nose gently nuzzled his chest, allaying the tremor her touch had caused, before her warmth left him entirely. The woman walked daintily across the tiled floor, bending to toss the spent prophylactic into the bin beside the shower door.

There was something uniquely provocative about the act.

The tight, curvaceous globes of her backside, the right of which still sported a prominent love bite, commanded Raymond’s full and undivided attention as she tilted forward. He internally admonished his insolent hands, which instinctively reached for her, one twitching with the need to spank one of those rounded little cheeks.

Rosalie caught his arm’s movement in her peripheral vision. “I like when you touch me, Raymond. You needn’t wait for my permission.” She insisted, arching her luscious derrière to meet his outstretched palm. 

Red’s fingertips curled into the supple mound without a moment’s hesitation. It took a great deal of effort, however, to keep the rest of his rampant body in check.  The act of the woman guiding his hand to his desired pastime, quite literally telling him she wanted him to touch her, caress her, fondle her to his heart’s content… It did things to the man he couldn’t yet put into words.

Rosalie’s eyebrows waggled impishly, taking entirely too much enjoyment in slowly bringing herself upright against him, ensuring he felt every inch of her body against his.

“We aren’t in danger of running out of those things, are we?” Raymond rumbled with a dark nod towards the bin, thinking it highly unlikely the woman would make it up the stairs without being accosted by him in some way.

“No, thankfully, we are quite well stocked in that arena.” She sighed, “And even if we did… We’re covered.”

The comment caught Red completely off guard, causing him to balk after her.

The feminine frame stepped out of the stall as though nothing were amiss, taking her fluffy towel from the nearby hook and drying herself off. A playful wink was thrown Raymond’s way before Rosalie sauntered up the stairs, carefree and naked as a dream.

So many questions swirled in the man’s mind it made his head spin. First and foremost, he very much wanted to know what, exactly, was Rosalie’s definition of ‘covered’?

************************************************************************************************************************

Raymond and Rosalie enjoyed a delightful meal of boeuf bourguignon in the cozy kitchen, swapping stories as was there custom. A loud crack of thunder had just shook the windows in the tower when they settled on the sofa in the living area, one of Red’s favorite stories coming to mind.

“There’s a delightful tradition I once engaged in with a group of Finns during a nasty winter in ‘94.” He began, settling into the plush sofa with a glass of wine and a warm woman tucked against his side. “I had been smuggling an assortment of contraband across the Gulf of Finland from Sillamäe and Kurgolovo. Little things like nickel, aluminum, the occasional shipment of crude oil, you know. We had just delivered a shipment I’d acquired from a notorious purveyor of Matryoshka dolls. Only, these ones just so happened to be filled with the stolen jewels of a Russian patriarch...” Red glanced down at his lover, pleased to see her deep grey eyes alight with curiosity, burrowed against his torso  and blinking interestedly up at him. 

“As I was saying,” he continued, warming to the tale, “We reached Kotka and this beast of a winter storm rolls in as we’re drinking at the local watering hole. My compatriots and I made it back to the rickety old cabin where we were staying with just enough time to spare. The sky turned black just like this, and as the temperature dropped, the pouring rain turned to a tumultuous blizzard. Couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, let alone what was two feet in front of the car."

Red grinned, recalling the punchline of his story quite fondly. “We made it inside, nothing in the fridge but a can of sardines, a cold ham, and two handles of Stolichnaya. Before I knew what was happening, I was surrounded by half a dozen drunk Finns in naught but their underwear. I remember thinking to myself, my God, here’s a scenario I never thought I’d be in.” 

Rosalie burst into laughter, eyes dancing gaily, unable to hide her amusement at his expense. 

“Now, I know what you’re thinking,” Raymond carried on, perfectly in his element, “When one thinks of being trapped in a cabin in one’s underwear, one does tend to hope for a half dozen ravishing blondes rather than a band of boisterous, belching men. However, such was not my lot in life until very, very recently.” He hazarded a glance toward his romantic interest, who barely contained a derisive snort of laughter. 

“Where the hell are these five other blondes you’re hiding away?” Rosalie questioned, leveling him a narrow yet playful gaze.

“Oh, I had to get rid of them.” Red nodded sagely, “Turns out the original blonde is a mite possessive, sharing men is apparently not in her nature. Plus, and this stays between you and I, mind.” He prodded her delicate nose with a firm finger, “She has been ravishing me ragged. I can barely stand let alone go chasing after any other fair-haired maidens.”

Rosalie grinned at this, terribly, awfully amused by the whole thing. “I’m possessive?” She questioned impishly, holding his shirt slightly out from her body, for she had donned another shortly after their shower. The generous gap in the fabric provided a lovely view of her naked torso, a few deep red bites standing out against her pristine skin.

Raymond beamed fondly at his handiwork, then went right back into his story as though nothing had transpired. “Anyway, as it turns out, these scantily clad fellows weren’t intending on making sweet, sweet love to me,” He bemoaned, undaunted by Rosalie’s hysterical laughter. “It was, apparently, some well-known Finnish tradition. They just got drunk in their underwear and swapped stories for hours until the storm passed.” 

“Kalsarikännit.” Rosalie quipped, recognizing the tradition he was referring to.

“Gesundheit.” snorted Red.

Rosalie wrinkled her nose at the corny joke. “ _Kalsarikännit_ , it’s the Finnish tradition of getting drunk in one’s underwear with no intention of going out.”

Raymond’s eyes lifted toward the heavens, “Jesus, they have a word for everything, those Finns. Them and the Germans. There should be a book with all the fun phrases in it.”

The man could feel Rosalie tittering with amusement beside him, drawing his eyes to her flushed and radiant face.

“We should do it.” She suggested in a tone of deep-seated excitement.

“Do…what?” Red asked, mentally chastising his a particular part of his anatomy for readily assuming what ‘it’ meant.

“Kalsarikännit,” she said, as though it were obvious, “We are going to be stuck inside for the next few days, why not? We can lounge around, listen to music,” Her lashes batted coyly up at him, “among other things…and when that gets old, I can thoroughly destroy you in a game of Monopoly.”

“It’s going to be one hell of a long wait for that board game.” Raymond insisted, curious and damn amused. “You want to get drunk in your underwear with me, then?”

She nodded, a wily smile gracing the woman’s features as she moved to kneel beside him.

“Yeah, I do. _So drop ‘em, Reddington._ ”

Red roared with laughter, the rascally quip so completely unexpected, it tickled him to no end. His chortling set the little blonde to giggling, the room filling with the sound of their amusement.

Raymond’s humor turned to heated intrigue as he watched Rosalie divest herself of his shirt. Button by button, the swell of her breasts was revealed to him, followed by her sternum, her ribcage, her belly button. His mouth followed the descent of her hands, leaving his lips parted in anticipation when the last button fell, giving him a peak of the soft curls between her thighs. 

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen the luscious little mound a short while ago, but the man found each time more exciting than the last.

“I’m underdressed…” Rosalie mused, peering thoughtfully down at her pert breasts. The soft peaks tightened beneath the man’s stare, the nipples rising excitedly at his attention.

“You’re perfect.” He championed, quite content with her attire. 

“Nope,” Rosalie shook her head, standing up and completely discarding his shirt. 

Raymond watched avidly while the garment slid like water down her slender arms and she stood before him completely content in her nudity. 

“The tradition is underwear, I’m not going to be the one going commando.” Rosalie made it halfway to the bedroom before turning back to Red, “ I think I’m going to need a _hand_ …” She called innocently.

Beaming for his lot in life, Raymond wasted no time in following his worldly little globetrotter into the bedroom.

************************************************************************************************************************

“Am I to be in my boxers, or do sleep pants count?” Questioned Red, uncertain of the exact parameters of her shenanigans.

Rosalie turned to see him perfectly in the buff, his manhood proudly on display as he held aloft both options. 

The sight made her mouth water. 

Raymond Reddington was quite handsome to begin with, but seeing him completely nude was a sight of which Rosalie was certain she would never tire. He always gave off an air of distinct virility and sexuality which made Rosalie squirm with desire. His skin held a healthy hue, dusted with soft blonde hair which she knew from experience felt lovely against her skin. 

She especially adored the man’s broad frame, much preferring his slightly softer build over muscled men like Horace and Baz, whom she often referred to as cumulonimbus clouds. Raymond’s stature was masculine, robust, and all-encompassing, while still feeling safe and inviting. She would never tell anyone, lest he lose his street cred, but Raymond Reddington, on top of being quite cute and affectionate, was a wonderful and eager cuddler.

Rosalie couldn’t tear her gaze from the man’s body, her dark eyes dropping significantly to the thick appendage between his legs. This part of him, she admitted, had become a fast favorite. As far as she was concerned, he was just right in every way. His girth was more than enough to satisfy, combined with his perfect length and thick, hard crown which spread her willing body just so… A shiver traversed her spine at the very thought, the endless accolades she could attribute the man’s penis lining up readily in the back of her mind.

“Careful, little dove,” Red warned, his tongue prodding his cheek, “Looking at me like that will be considered an open invitation to bend you over the nearest piece of furniture and fuck you ragged.”

The roguish threat made Rosalie’s mouth drop open in gobsmacked interest, her thighs squeezing together in an attempt to stem the rush of arousal which pooled in her belly.

Raymond caught the movement, quirking his eyebrows flirtatiously before turning to put his sleep pants back in the drawers.

Rosalie turned once she shook herself from her trance, only to stop mid-movement. Something caught her eye, causing her to reverse toward Raymond. 

Upon looking at his back, her hand flew up to her mouth in shock.

There, in bright red lines traversing the man’s frame, were several long, tender-looking scratches.

“I _scratched_ you!” Rosalie balked, striding quickly across the room and placing gentle hands to her lover’s shoulders. The dimpled and scarred flesh was bisected this way and that by the little red stripes which Rosalie could easily line up with her own fingertips. 

Raymond chuckled lewdly, “ _Oh yes you did._ ” He murmured with a tone of distinct pride, seeming to be quite thrilled with the fruits of his labor.

Rosalie, on the other hand, was feeling an overwhelming deluge of remorse. “Raymond,” she whispered, seeing the exact spot where she had clutched him in the shower, “I’m so sorry, why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?” She felt awful for her complete loss of control. “I’ve got a first aid kit in the hall closet.” She fretted, moving to fetch the item.

A very amused fugitive waylaid her intent easily, keeping her within his reach. “I didn’t say you were hurting me because you weren’t hurting me.” He insisted, tugging her into his embrace. “I thoroughly enjoyed every last second of it.”

The woman’s brows raised in question, not sure if she believed him.

Red lifted her onto the dresser and turned slightly so she could examine his ‘battle scars ’ as much as she wished. “Marks like these do not bother me in the slightest.” He assured, “To me, they are no different than the cacophony of love bites I’ve left on you.”

“Why?” Asked Rosalie, leaning to place petal soft lips to the expanse of his shoulders, her loving mouth whispering its apologies for her wayward fingers.

Raymond grinned softly, the action quite endearing in his mind. “Because you only scratch me when you’re wild with pleasure.” He purred in a tone bordering on indecent. “Those last agonizing seconds before your body lets go... It’s so erotic, Rosalie, to have you out of your mind, clawing at me for want of more, knowing I’m the one who brought you to such a wanton state. You couldn’t have stopped if you tried and that’s the last thing I’d wanted you to do.”

Rosalie’s cheeks flushed scarlet, the explanation thoroughly turning her on. “Are you sure?” She questioned, needing confirmation in this instance, “It looks painful.”

A sigh of amused exasperation left Red’s lips, and he turned to face his counterpart. “I’m telling you I liked it, and I plan on making you do it again…” He kissed her cheek, “and again…” he kissed her earlobe “and again.” His mouth worked its way down her rapidly heating frame, the stubble of the day’s growth scratching sensually against her sensitive skin. His teeth nipped along the subtle curve where her neck and shoulders met, sending tiny shivers of delight through her limbs.

Red’s tormenting melted the woman before him, any argument she had turning to vapor when confronted with his unshakable certainty.

“Allow me to demonstrate.” He offered, taking her from the dresser and leading her back toward the bed. 

Reaching the large four poster, Red effortlessly lifted the blonde, tossing her playfully onto the plush surface. 

“On your knees.” He rumbled, cocking his head in that inimitable way of his.

The command held a heady implication, making Rosalie hesitate ever so slightly, glancing doe-eyed at Raymond before turning obediently to her hands and knees before him.

Red would have given half his empire to know what, exactly, had been flitting through her mind in that moment of hesitation. Was she nervous? Or, perhaps, there was another fantasy running about unchecked? Had he struck a particularly arousing chord?

The man was damn well determined to find out.

The female frame knelt before him in all its glory demanded Raymond halt for but a moment and simply appreciate the beauty afforded him. Did Rosalie have any idea how utterly thrilling she was? The sumptuous curve of her waist dipping inward from her chest, surging outward to meet her hips was enough to drive the man to distraction. Her luscious, tight backside, tapering off into the most enticing pair of legs he’d ever had wrapped around him. Her sensuality reminded him of Goya's Nude Maja, the subject of which sported a very similar figure and a likewise unabashed sexuality the man never found to be anything less than beguiling.

His hand dropped to the silky wetness of her mons, fingertips ghosting in maddening circles over her sensitive lips and clit. He brushed her with just enough pressure to tease and torment, making Rosalie wiggle and writhe before him. “Such a needy little thing you are.” He crooned, completely approving of her wanton movements. “So wet for me, so ready for whatever teasing I have in store.”

The rose-hued treasure between her thighs quivered visibly under his intense gaze. A drop of warm, wet arousal trickled from her opening, carving a glistening path along her sex. The delicate lips parted like a flower in bloom before his eyes.

The sight stole the breath from Red’s lungs, a white-hot insatiable thirst welling in the back of his throat and searing its way down into his chest.

She looked utterly delectable, bent double and spread wide for his viewing pleasure, open to his every whim.

The lone droplet of clear excitement had followed gravity’s dictates, trailing the length of her pretty little slit to cling sinfully to the peak of her sex.

There were no words to communicate how badly the man wished to swipe his burning tongue over her pearly clit. Raymond was certain there was nothing in this world he desired more in that moment than to take the little bud into his mouth and tongue its delicate surface until Rosalie came with back breaking force.

The mental image coaxed Red to place a gentle hand between the woman’s shoulder blades, angling her torso downward, presenting her peachy backside to his ardent attention. 

“ _So beautiful_ ,” he whispered, smoothing his palms over her firm cheeks. 

Rosalie fidgeted, confused as to what he was doing, why he had suddenly grown deafeningly silent. “Ray-“ She began, only to be interrupted by his hands gripping her hips roughly.

“Don’t you move, little dove,” he growled in a heated, volatile voice. “Not one inch.”

The deep rumbling command vibrated in close proximity to the woman’s exposed sex, setting her to quivering. The tiny drop of arousal to which Raymond’s gaze was so firmly affixed swelled with her heightened excitement, clinging precariously to her sensitive clit.

The warm hands spread the woman just a little more for him, putting her in the perfect position for his needs.

Rosalie’s breath came in tremulous shudders, now fully aware of what he intended to do with her. She gasped aloud when she felt his hot breath on her lower lips. “ _Oh_ …” she gasped, mentally begging him to follow the path his mind had wandered.

Red smiled a clever, serene smile. He had waited so patiently, biding his time for the moment he could taste her. From the very first time he saw her, legs crossed and tied to a chair in São Paulo, the fiery hellcat within her momentarily subdued, her tongue dancing to the lethal rhythm of their negotiations.

 _Oh_ , how he had wanted her, even then.

In the futile, fervid world of dreams, his mind had secretly wandered to this beautiful creature. Day and night he had assuaged his desire, imagining her aching for him, down to the very last detail. In the most intimate ways imaginable, he had wanted her, and now she was there with him, open and willing to his every touch. Raymond could smell the soft scent of her bath products on her skin, mixing with the natural aroma of warm arousal, combining further with a succulent scent which was all Rosalie. 

Unable to withhold himself a moment longer, Red’s hot, wet tongue lapped hungrily out at that little drop of ecstasy.

The sound torn from Rosalie’s lips at the contact was enough to drop the man to his knees. The shameless, wanton cry echoed in the tall room, holding notes of surprise and unparalleled pleasure.

From his lower elevation, Raymond could eagerly tease every last inch of his lover, wasting no time in tonguing hard and fast into her fluttering depths. 

She was so sweet, so wonderfully wet, her velvety softness felt so damn good in his mouth. 

His tongue flicked insistently circling the sensitive bud, kindling her pleasure to a fiery inferno. 

Rosalie bucked and quaked under his assault, a litany of broken moans clawing their way out of her. His mouth felt incredible, the slippery, writhing tongue pairing sinfully with the delicious scratch of his 5 o’clock shadow against her most sensitive flesh. Raymond’s diligent care robbed her of speech, her body melted into a trembling, submissive wreck. All the woman wanted in the moment was to rut against Red’s talented tongue and scream her pleasure.

When she finally found her voice again, a throaty whine fell from her lips. “Please, please don’t stop.” 

Raymond could tell Rosalie hadn’t been loved properly, thoroughly, in this way by past lovers. The tone of surprise in her voice when he had delved into her shivering heat had told him as much. Her desperate plea for him not to stop plucked at a nerve within the man, making Red wonder if some oblivious cad had ever stopped while this gorgeous siren was lost in the throes of passion.

“Have you ever come from a man’s mouth like this, Rosalie?” He questioned in his sultry baritone, sending a barrage of vibrations into her center. Red couldn’t help the question, he simply had to know. He was rewarded with a veritable river of sweet, needy pleasure trickling from her quim. 

“N-no.” She admitted, a vibrant blush flooding her entire frame. She’d had lovers in the past. Rosalie had, of course, experienced oral sex, but only as a moment of foreplay before the main event. She had never experienced anything quite like this.

“I’m going to amend that travesty.” Red assured, absolutely certain of the fact. The possessive corner of Raymond’s soul roared into life, inordinately pleased to be the first to ever pull this particular brand of pleasure from her. The men she had been with were absolute fools not to worship the wonderland residing at the apex of her thighs. There was something deliciously carnal about satisfying a woman’s most intimate needs. Truthfully, Red went wild for it. He was addicted to the emotions evoked by such pursuits. He reveled in his ability to make this formidable woman come undone, to coax those raw, unfettered sounds from her throat in a way no other man had before.

“Oh, _fuck_...me!” Rosalie gasped, her hips rocking feverishly to meet his wicked tongue.

The man smiled around the delicate clit he had captured between his lips, thrilled to feel the woman losing herself to her body’s demands. The tell-tale tremble of her thighs alerted him she was getting close. He sure as hell wasn’t stopping now. 

Given his way, Red was going to stay firmly ensconced between those quaking limbs until she was a sated wreck, and even then, he might not want to move from his sensual pastime.

The idea of continuing his teasing long past the woman’s peak aroused the man immensely. He would relentlessly suckle her clit, he would tongue the cushioned depths of her pussy till she had no hope but to give in, and she would come for him endlessly. Raymond could envision the woman above him squirming and panting as she was held captive by his ravenous mouth. He would overstimulate her little bundle of nerves until she screamed out another orgasm, then another, and perhaps one more after that, giving him every last drop of nectar between her silky thighs. He would inundate her with the pleasure she had been denied. 

The thought was enough to make the man truly growl, an animalistic sound causing Rosalie to mewl as the menacing vibration rumbled from his body to hers. “ _Raymond_ ,” she whimpered, the sensation nearly too much to bear.

"So sweet," he hissed, allowing his rich, silky voice to wash over her. "You taste divine, little dove." 

The man wasn't pandering. Every woman was different, and he'd had some exciting adventures in the world of cunnilingus before now, but Red had never encountered a woman who tasted quite like this. Rosalie was his favorite wildflower honey, sweet with the luscious tang of exotic fruit. He swore if he focused he could taste the floral notes of the gin she so prized. She was utterly intoxicating, leaving Raymond’s tongue lapping insatiably at her quivering quim, drawing more and more of that which was uniquely Rosalie into his waiting mouth.

Rosalie buckled in response to the compliment, her rigid body winding even tighter at his coaxing. She had never been told something so very intimate before. " _M-more_." She pleaded, her pelvis unashamedly rocking back into the stimulation.

“Tell me what you need, honey, and I’ll give it to you.” He swore, flattening his tongue into long, broad strokes.

“I-oh _God_ , _Raymond_ ,” The woman whimpered her involvement, keening against the more insistent touch. She knew she needed something, but didn’t have enough experience in this arena to be able to voice what it was.

“I love that noise, but it’s not the one I’m looking for.” Red hummed, perfectly unperturbed as he changed his approach. His warm, rough hands slid forward, tweaking the woman’s tightly pebbled nipples.

Rosalie squeaked in approval, jolts of gratification crackling along her nerve endings. “That,” she sighed blissfully.

“ _Almost_ ,” grunted Raymond, continuing his ministrations with one hand while the other wrapped about Rosalie’s torso. His muscled arm kept her pinned right where he needed her before he took her aching clit into his mouth again.

The woman’s breath halted for a split second before a howl of pleasure ripped through her, sending Red into a frenzy of licentious desire. He sucked hard at the quivering bud, thrashing his scorching tongue rapidly over it.

“ _Oh shit_ , right there, _R-Raymond_!” 

The sensation was intense, tingling and white-hot as it took Rosalie forcefully over the edge. Her hands fisted the sheets, her sex clenched violently, and she cried out as Red continued his wonderful assault. Her hips rolled and bucked, the desperate tremors of release wracking her small frame.

Raymond moaned, maintaining his steady rhythm along her convulsing sex. A rush of sweet, orgasmic euphoria coated his tongue and lips, the tight tunnel he was plundering fluttered helplessly, trying in desperation to grip his writhing tongue and pull him deep. The sensation drove Red up the walls, a carnal groan seeming to issue from the man’s very foundations.

Rosalie’s knees quaked from the sound buzzing through her, barely able to hold her body upright from the sheer force of her pleasure.

“I want _more_.” Red rasped, his tone brooking no argument. He released the woman from his teasing long enough to shift her toward the head of the bed, coaxing her to her back so Raymond could see the results of his efforts. 

Rosalie glowed, radiant and wild with rapture. Her breasts heaved her need for oxygen and her body shook deliciously, each tremor speaking to the possessive corner of Raymond’s soul. Those dark grey eyes were blown wide with passion, watching him dazedly as he moved up the bed with her. “Please, Raymond” She implored, reaching out to pull him close.

Red leaned forward, capturing her lips in a searing kiss which left them both burning.

Rosalie let out a husky whine, tasting herself on his agile tongue. The soft scent of sex lingered on his skin, mixing with his aftershave. It was an electrifying aphrodisiac, leaving her squirming with need.

Red’s mouth traveled back down the woman’s curves, leaving a trail of kisses and beard burn in his wake. 

Strong hands spread Rosalie’s legs wide once again, the man’s broad shoulders settled once again between her thighs, one arm wrapping about her hip to fondle her breasts.

Rosalie watched in open-mouthed awe as Raymond nuzzled the soft curls of her mons adoringly before that wicked tongue of his darted out, hot, pink, and wet, to lap between her lips. The sight was ribald, completely and utterly obscene in its raw sexuality.

Green eyes glinted darkly up at the woman, watching in undisguised lust as he caressed her quivering thighs, settling into his pastime. 

Fifteen minutes later, the only parts of Rosalie still touching the bed were the back of her head, her ass, and the tips of her toes. The rest of her feminine frame was bowed in broken ecstasy as Raymond’s tongue danced over her without mercy. Rosalie whimpered, her hips rutting greedily against the stimulation. The woman fisted the plush bedding surrounding her, needing something, anything to grip as her lover pulled the most wanton sounds she had ever heard from her own lips. 

A lone hand reached, nearly grasping the man’s head in desire. Thankfully, Rosalie caught herself before she made contact, balling the little appendage into a fist and forcing it back to her side with some effort. She opened hooded eyes to see Raymond watching her intently, a wildfire lurking behind his dark orbs. 

He reached forward, grasping her hand and placing it to his pate the way she so often did, silently giving her permission to do so. 

A little growl fell from her lips as her fingers threaded through his short locks, her natural inclination taking over, nails swirling along his scalp to his neck, creating a deluge of goosebumps down the man’s stocky frame. 

The sensation made him moan against her sodden mound, impossibly wet from her arousal and his saliva. He loved how she couldn’t hold herself back, how she simply just _had_ to touch him. Her gentle but insistent grasp on his scalp was titillating and wonderfully provocative.

It was several long moments before Rosalie felt comfortable guiding the man ever so slightly to her left. Her soft hand carded through his hair, inching down to caress his cheek with a soft mew. Feeling the movement of his jaw against her sensitive sex coaxed another rush of wetness from her center.

Red memorized the movement, shifting his lips and fluttering his tongue in the desired direction until his name and a thousand oaths echoed off the stone walls.

Another orgasm tore through Rosalie, making her whole body buckle in exhausted pleasure. Her legs wrapped unconsciously around Red, her little heels digging into his shoulder blades as she rode out the explosive release. 

Raymond was having a terrible time keeping a smug grin from overcoming his face as he gently coaxed his lover down from her peak.

Rosalie gasped and rolled to her side, closing her legs lest the man’s restless tongue find its way back to the apex of her thighs. Her whole frame shivered uncontrollably, which both amused and enticed Red. 

He moved slowly up the bed, surrounding his lover with his comforting warmth and bulk. Raymond gathered the woman to him, cradling her in a soothing embrace. His nose nuzzled her cheek gently as he crooned a soft purr of praises in her ear. 

The woman had thoroughly exceeded his wildest daydreams. The sounds which had cascaded from her mouth as he sought her pleasure left him with an almost brazen self-confidence. The taste of her was unlike any woman he had ever been with. Her responsiveness to his coaxing was nothing short of thrilling.

“You are so enchanting, little dove.” He sighed, smoothing his warm hands in gentle passes over her back and shoulders. “You’re going to have a hard time keeping my mouth away from you.”

Rosalie giggled dazedly, cuddling deeper into his hold. “I adore any part of you between my thighs, Raymond, but my God…” She shook her head, “I’ve never experienced anything quite like your tongue.”

A deep, sensuous laugh rumbled through the man’s chest, vibrating pleasantly against Rosalie’s ear as she was pulled closer to her lover. 

“I thoroughly enjoy making you wild like this. Watching you come like that-” Several loud thunderclaps rent the air, cutting off his statement, leaving Rosalie to wonder what exactly watching her in such a state had done to the man.

She knew she loved him watching her so very intently, his gaze had practically burned her skin. The way he touched her, those dark orbs never leaving hers as she watched him suckle at her, the very sight left Rosalie lost in a sea of voracious need. “I desperately want you inside me.” She confessed, surprised she could even form the sentence after an orgasm which was still sending its aftershocks through her limbs.

“Oh, you do, do you?” Asked Raymond, wholly surprised by the declaration.

The lights around them flickered slightly.

“Yes,” she shivered, meeting his dark gaze with warm, pleading eyes. “Please, Raymond, I’m aching for you.”

With a thunderous ’ _BOOM_ ’, every light in the tower blew out.

A frisson of excitement ran through the two fugitives, finding themselves cast into total darkness.

A snarl of arousal echoed in the blackened room as strong, masculine hands pulled Rosalie astride Red. His lips crashed against hers, rough and demanding.

The woman whimpered her approval, gladly relenting to his every whim. Her soft hand trailed sharp nails down his bare chest, pulling another growl from deep within his broad torso. 

Red mentally rejoiced when those little hands found their mark, slipping effortlessly beneath the waistband of his boxers, stroking his rigid shaft lovingly.

“I love your cock,” she whispered, watching in fascination as her fingertips trailed gently over the heated flesh. He was so very thick, so hard for her. She wondered idly if the other women he’d been with ever drove him out of his mind like this. She sure as hell knew her past lovers paled in comparison. 

Raymond gasped at her touch, his cock was hard enough to drive nails at this point. “I need to fuck you, little dove.” He pleaded, arching into her teasing fingers. 

Rosalie had wanted to play a little longer, had secretly wanted to take the bulging rod into her mouth and suckle until the man was as broken with ecstasy as she was. However, seeing the deep furrow of his brow and hearing the plaintive pleas to make love with her quickly altered her plans. The woman wasted no time in shifting across the bed, lying on her stomach as she dug in the nightstand drawer for the object in question. Closing her fingers around the elusive little square, she held it out behind her.

Red snatched it, tearing the foil open and sheathing his pulsing length in one smooth motion. Thunder clapped loudly in the distance, a streak of lightning illuminating the room as The man gripped his lover’s hips, guiding her back to her hands and knees before him.

Rosalie cried out as he sank deep into her waiting heat. “ _Yes_ ,” she moaned in relief, pushing back into the thick appendage. A wonderful sensation of stability and satisfaction enveloped her as she felt every delectable inch of Raymond’s erection slowly fill her tight body.

“God, _you have no idea how badly I need you_.” Hissed Raymond, “Watching you shatter over and over has left me so terribly hard.”

Rosalie mewed her agreement, feeling the rigid head of his penis spreading her relentlessly. She pushed back to meet him, fucking him with her tight body.

“I _love_ when you do that.” Red moaned, bewitched by the show being performed for him. Rosalie’s full, peachy backside bounced eagerly off his dick, ensuring he could feel every lovely inch of her slick heat enveloping him.

Raymond thrust in long, spine-tingling strokes, driving his lover steadily wild with the drag of his heavy shaft. “All this attention paid to your little clit has made you terribly sensitive, _hasn’t it_ , little dove?” He purred knowingly, feeling how her tight pussy was already twitching snugly around his cock.

“ _Yes_ ,” She whimpered, focused entirely on the sensations building in her core. “God, it’s so sensitive.” Her slender arms were nestled beneath her, hands tucked adorably under her chin, clutching the sheets in a firm grip. “You feel _so_ _good_ ,” she mewed, her breathing accelerating as her body was lead down the path to Nirvana.

Red reached and grasped the tops of her shoulders, slamming his cock deep inside her to a chorus of delighted feminine sounds. The way her slick, velvety sex caressed his aching head, massaging his straining shaft wondrously, the man found himself teetering on an excruciating edge.

As Rosalie’s hips began to buck, Raymond recalled why they had begun this little escapade in the first place. With a soft hiss of excitement, he curled the tips of his fingers into the supple flesh of Rosalie’s shoulders, dragging his short nails in long, unrelenting scratches down her back to the very base of her spine.

The sensation made the woman’s frame arch sharply, her breath hitching in that way he so dearly loved.

A feral moan leapt from Rosalie’s lips as he scraped down her curves, leaving little red lines of his own on her pristine skin. 

It felt _so damn good_ , it made the woman shiver from head to toe.

“ _See_?” Red growled knowingly, feeling her snug heat pulsing excitedly around him. “This is what I feel when you run those little nails of yours down my back. I don’t have to explain how _delicious_ it feels, do I little dove?”

“Oh… _oh keep doing that_.” She fairly demanded, arching harder into his touch. The fingers tucked beneath her chin were white-knuckled, shredding the stark white sheets in their grasp.

Raymond grinned, utterly besotted with the wanton woman bouncing off his member, whimpering with each and every thrust. 

She was so open and unreserved, so warm and inviting, so wonderfully responsive to his touch. Rosalie had managed in a few short days to outstrip every woman he had ever bedded simply by the way she unrestrainedly made love with him.

The man trailed his fingers down her spine again, relishing the feminine cry which poured from her lips as her body lovingly cradled him, gripping his driving cock like a vice, ensuring he came with her, the man’s deep voice echoing his delight. 

*******************************************************************************************************************

The pair found themselves perched at the kitchen counter an undefined time later, enjoying the first of many drinks to come. They were both flushed and relaxed, whether it was from the alcohol or their spirited performance earlier, they weren’t entirely sure.

An arsenal of large, cylindrical candles were lit throughout the room, providing enough light for them to reasonably see. A fire was just beginning to crackle in the living room’s hearth, creating a nice orange glow. The stove, being gas, was still in working order, the remnants of the boeuf bourguignon was slowly warming on the burner. A backup generator had also kicked on, carrying just enough power to run the refrigerator and the record player, which suited the two of them just fine.

Raymond found himself enraptured as Rosalie told him the story of how she had purchased the tower, a decadent tail of complete mischief, resulting in Florian coming to assist after Rosalie’s stilted Norwegian got her into a bit of a linguistic bind.

When the woman stood to check the pot on the stove, they were both laughing quite rowdily. This, combined with their freely flowing drinks, resulted in her nearly falling face forward into the kitchen.

Red’s reflexes were still, thankfully, in working order. A strong arm thrust out at the last moment, catching the curvaceous frame easily around the middle.

“Whoops!” Squealed Rosalie with a giggle, “Good catch, Watson.”

The quip made the man give an indignant snort, “Why am I Watson? Surely I’m Sherlock?”

The woman was still bent double, dangling resignedly from his outstretched palm. “You can’t be Shirley _and_ Sherlock, those are terrible aliases.” She chastised tipsily, followed by an annoyed sigh, “But, you’re right, if anyone’s Watson, it’s Dembe.”

Raymond shook his head, “You’re quite adorable when you’re drunk.” He teased, moving to lift the little woman into his lap. 

“I’m dead clumsy is what I am. A terror unto myself and others.” Rosalie insisted vehemently, pleased to inexplicably find herself perched on the man’s knee. “Oh I _do_ like being in your lap,” she sighed, nuzzling into his neck.

Red was mentally thanking whatever deity was responsible for her knowledge of the word ‘Kalsarikännit.’ What had begun as a cozy, rainy day indoors had turned into an endless night of warm, sensual fun.

Rosalie was a cuddly little thing on a normal day, but four heavy-handed gin and tonics in, she was admittedly, rather clumsy, but also insatiably affectionate.

She wriggled restlessly, causing Red’s grasp to shift upward to one of her pert breasts, palming the globe firmly in one large hand.

“ _Ooh_ ,” she cooed, arching into his warm grasp.

Red laughed that sultry laugh of his and his arms were suddenly full of a frisky little blonde. “How on earth are you still in need of me?” He questioned, admittedly quite pleased she seemed to be as ravenous as he was. He already knew his body would respond to any whim she may have.

“Horace has indicated if I turn out to be some kind of insatiable sex fiend, he’ll be most upset.” Rosalie commented idly, casting doe eyes upon her lover.

Raymond laughed at the abrupt change of tact, “Well, we will make sure not to get up to any business in his room. The rest of the house, well…” he sing-songed his head in a non-committal gesture.

Rosalie beamed her appreciation, “I fear I will never have my fill of you.” She confessed, nibbling her way along his neck.

“Say that again.” Raymond husked pulling her tighter to him.

“ _I will never tire of your body pressed intimately to mine_.” She purred in his ear, leaning to look at him through fathoms deep grey eyes. “I will never tire of touching you, caring for you, making love to you. I hope that’s alright.” Her lips sought his again, making the truth of her statement hit home for Raymond.

The man wrapped her in his arms, responding in kind. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“As long as you hold me.” She quipped, a rich, genuine laugh cascading from her mouth at her own wit. 

The sound tugged mercilessly at the heart strings of her companion. “Oh, I love that laugh.” Raymond murmured, his voice so quiet Rosalie nearly missed the comment. His hand reached up to tuck a curl behind her ear, “That one specifically. It falls from your lips in such a way, I knew you couldn’t have held it back if you tried.” Those green eyes held hers with a stifling sincerity. “I love making you laugh, if only for the promise of hearing it. The way it dances along my skin,” he placed a warm hand over the one she had placed on his cheek, “There’s nothing quite like it.”

The woman blushed scarlet, rendered speechless and terribly flattered by his quiet declaration. The statement had taken her so thoroughly by surprise, she simply gaped for a moment before beaming fondly at him.

Raymond met the gesture with interest, kissing Rosalie thoroughly before standing and placing her on her feet. “To the fire, little dove.” He commanded, patting her backside in the appropriate direction.

The woman tipsily made her way to the seating area, settling herself on the rug beside the warm fire.

Raymond appeared moments later with a hearty bowl of the boeuf bourguignon and two spoons. “How much wine is in this?” He questioned, grunting his approval of the robust dish.

“A whole bottle.” Chimed Rosalie with a grin.

“Woman after my own heart,” Red praised, taking another generous spoonful. “Who taught you to cook?”

“My mother, mostly, a bit from my grandmother here and there.” She took her spoon gratefully, “This particular dish, however, I learned at the knee of Marietta Armel.”

The echo of the fiery Frenchwoman bursting into the young woman’s room at the Armel’s home, declaring she was going to teach her to cook the proper French way, was one of Rosalie’s most cherished memories.

“You and the Armels are family.” Red commented, knowing from her earlier interactions with Florian, the woman adored her pseudo-adoptive parents. 

“I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for Florian,” Rosalie readily admitted, “And I wouldn’t be half as comfortable in this life had I never met his wife.” She turned to catch Raymond’s interested gaze. “I love them dearly, and I owe them both a great debt. They selflessly filled a hole in my life I didn’t even know was there.

Red’s eyes softened, “They love you too, very much.” His mind recalled his discussion with Florian at the safehouse in Bulgaria, when the old mobster had openly admitted the spritely innkeeper was one of those whom he loved most in this world. Raymond had promised he would take care of Rosalie, that she would be one of his own. He didn’t think a romantic relationship was quite what the man expected.

The men hadn’t spoken since the incident at Marcelo’s party months ago, and Red couldn’t help but wonder how Florian would respond to this new development. 

Rosalie’s warm voice interrupted his thoughts, “One day, I’ll tell you the story of my finding the Armel family, and you’ll tell me the story of whatever’s in your waistcoat pocket.” 

Her visage held a sly smile, making Red chuckle. He held out a firm hand, which she took, sealing the deal.

A not altogether uncomfortable silence followed, another firm truth settling between them.

“We will have to tell Florian.” Sighed Rosalie, glancing nervously up at her companion.

Raymond’s posture tightened visibly, “...And?” He asked, wondering if she had expected him to keep their relationship a secret. The thought bothered the man immensely. He would not hide their involvement, he couldn’t love her quietly in the dark and pretend not to feel the same way in the light.

“If you’re implying-” he began heatedly.

“I’m _implying_ you should be ready for Florian to throw a spectacular fit.” She snipped, “He won’t be happy about us.” She already knew how he would respond and was already dreading the unpleasantness which would follow the altercation.

“What does Florian’s happiness have to do with ours?” Raymond growled with vigor, firing up at once.

Rosalie stood to pour herself another drink, taking a long moment to respond. When she did, the fight was gone out of her voice. “Florian’s the closest thing I’ve had to a father these past five years.” She whispered honestly, “Is it so wrong for me to wish for his approval?”

Red’s stiff stature softened immediately, understanding her plight. She was dreading Florian finding out about them because she would once again be out in the impossible situation of standing between her parental figure and her lover. For someone with Rosalie’s empathetic personality, being at odds with two of the precious few people she actually allowed into her life was utterly exhausting. Yet, to not tell Florian would be a monstrous betrayal the likes of which neither Raymond nor Rosalie could stomach. 

“No,” Raymond assured the woman, stepping around the living room furniture and gathering her in his arms. “No, there is nothing wrong with that.”

They stood for a while in contemplative silence before Rosalie tilted her head upward. “I don’t want us to be a secret, Raymond. I’m sorry if my response gave you the impression. That is not at all what I want.”

Red tilted his head, placing his lips to her cheek in a hope to brighten her mood. “Good, because I won’t be able to hide it.”

A slow, shy smile tugged at Rosalie’s lips, “Really?”

Raymond nodded, “Neither will you.” He was quite certain, nobody would believe they weren’t together. Their dynamic had always been sexually charged, but it now held an aura of completion, of belonging. It was as though Rosalie was well and truly his now, and he hers.

Rosalie laughed softly, “We’re rather obvious, huh?”

Red smiled back at her, “I like you being so obviously mine, and I so blatantly yours.” His voice held a protective, masculine undertone which stirred the ache in Rosalie’s chest.

The rest of the world could look, could wonder and seek to garner their attention, their favor, but Raymond and Rosalie would be far too busy enjoying their relationship to even bother with the rest.

“Florian will come around,” Raymond murmured, kissing her temple, “He adores you too much to be upset for long.”

Rosalie smiled into the man’s chest, feeling considerably better. They would be together regardless of it all. “I know he will. Until then, let’s not dwell on it.”

*******************************************************************************************************************

The evening continued into the early hours of the morning, the pair thoroughly enjoying their Kalsarikännit activities. There was barely enough scotch and gin left for one more drink as the storm raged on outside. 

Raymond’s attention turned toward the omnipresent bookshelves in the living area, beaming at them fondly, if not a little drunkenly. “ _God_ , I love your little tricks with the books.” He proclaimed, the slightest hint of a slur in his voice.

“I love how your sexy voice becomes permanent after your sixth glass of Bowmore.” Rosalie retorted impishly, her delicate ankles crossed vertically in the air as was her custom, resting atop the sofa’s arm.

Red let out a torrid chuckle, glancing at her profile with interest. “Hold that thought,” he insisted, turning back to the shelf and eyeing a row of books which caught his eye. “Are these _all_ about sex?” 

Rosalie laughed a tinkling laugh, covering her mouth when she saw which row he was perusing. “Yes.”

“Oh!” She gasped, suddenly recalling something she had wished to look up, “ Hand me the dark blue one, fourth book in, will you?”

Raymond plucked the thick tome from the shelf, looking studiously at the embossed cover. “Really, Rosalie, _Tantra_?”

“Don’t think you’re up to the task?” She quipped, eyes alight with mischief. Her hand stretched out waggling little fingers, demanding he hand over the reading material.

“I think you’re determined to ruin me for any other woman.” He replied honestly, sniggering when the little deviant tugged the book from his grasp.

“There’s a position in here I remember being curious about.” She murmured, thumbing through the pages thoughtfully.

“You’re thinking of the Kama Sutra, my dear,” Red offered solicitously, moving back toward the array of books.

“I have that too,” she informed him, “But I know it’s in the tantric one…”

Her voice trailed off as she began to read, leaving Red to peruse the collection. The row held a plethora of material on sexuality and sensuality from several different cultures. A hard bound copy of the Kama Sutra stood out amongst offerings like Histoire d’O, Delta of Venus, and several anthologies of erotic poetry from the likes of Pablo Neruda and E.E. Cummings. Her preferences stirred his curiosity immensely. 

He pulled Histoire d’O from the row, meandering back towards the innkeeper with a boyish grin on his face. “Read this to me in French?”

Rosalie grinned her utter delight, setting the Tantra aside and patting the space next to her. 

Raymond beamed, laying so he was perpendicular to her, resting his head against her waist.

His lover dropped her hand to card through his hair and caress his cheek, her warm, sensual voice purring the first chapter in a charming French lilt.

*******************************************************************************************************************

Several hours later, Rosalie awoke in the massive bed, her lover curled possessively around her torso. She yawned and stretched slightly, a revolting development invading her relaxed mind. 

She was terribly hungover.

A grunt issued from the man cuddled against her chest, informing her he, too, was feeling the effects of last night’s antics.

“ _Why_ did we drink so much?” Rosalie groaned, her head spinning horribly.

“It was _your_ idea,” Raymond readily accused, one large, warm hand reached up to cradle her left breast, the right was already operating as a cushion for the man’s head.

“It was _your_ story,” Rosalie groused, arching unconsciously into his touch. “I need to shower, I can feel the gin seeping from my pores.” 

“ _You_ suggested we do the damn thing, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could stand for a shower.” The man admitted, his head pounding and his entire body feeling as though it carried a lead weight.

“I have to do something with my hair,” sighed Rosalie, not at all wanting to go downstairs and begin the tedious task of tending to her now wild curls.

Raymond waved the notion aside, “We’ll draw a bath, then.”

The young woman immediately perked up at the idea. “Oh, but I _do_ love the bath here.”

*******************************************************************************************************************

After a quick bite to eat, Raymond turned on the bath’s large taps, allowing the warm water to slowly fill the massive tub. There was an assortment of oils, salts, and scrubs in glass jars on a shelf beside the bath which caught his attention. Settling a stack of towels beside the steps leading to the whirlpool, Red descended into the rising water.

Rosalie happily fixed them both a drink, leaning heavily on the ‘hair of the dog’ philosophy. She tossed a couple frozen whiskey stones in the bottom of her glass, forgoing Red’s because she knew he didn’t like his scotch chilled. Before she descended the stairs, another idea came to her, sending her scurrying back toward the bedroom with an excited grin.

Raymond was busy conducting hungover alchemy experiments in the en-suite’s large tub. Having opened each and every bottle to determine what lay within, the man was now tossing an assortment of their combined contents into the steaming water around him. He had just added a flourish of green bath salts when he heard a soft titter from behind him. 

The Concierge of Crime turned, still bleary-eyed, to see a lovely blonde creature staring at him in amused affection. 

“ _Rub a dub dub, there’s a fugitive in my tub_.” She joked, quite pleased with her display of irreverent wit. She held his scotch in one hand, her own gin and a lit Cohiba in the other. The cigar smelled wonderful, beckoning Raymond to its intricate flavors.

“I believe you have something of mine, little dove.” Red purred, reaching for the lit item.

Rosalie danced just out of his grasp, giggling infectiously. “I believe _I_ was the one who stole these, _darling_.” She said, placing his scotch at the water’s edge before scuttling away from him once again.

“I believe _I_ was the one dealing with Castro first, you little tyrant.” Red groused, very nearly catching the hem of her towel. His lips quirked reluctantly upward as her laugh bounced gaily off the stone walls.

“Yeah, but _who_ got _you_ off the island?” She smirked, taking one goading step back toward him.

“Edward.” Red replied without missing a beat.

Rosalie blinked blithely back at him, taking a long, exaggerated puff from the delicious looking cigar.

Red watched her with narrowed eyes, changing his tack to suit their particular brand of negotiations. “Get in here, _woman_ , I want to taste that Cohiba on your lips.” 

The retort sufficed to make Rosalie squeak with surprise, a blush covering her from head to toe.

“My, my, Miss Øllegaard, such a pretty pink hue you’re wearing. I had no idea you would respond to such talk.” Raymond laughed, thoroughly enjoying setting the woman on her heels. He had known such an open call to her sense of depravity would shock and entice.

“I…” Rosalie honestly didn’t know how to respond, she had no idea she liked that sort of talk either. Though, she realized now, there were a great many things she liked, but only when Raymond did them. The thought made her insides squirm in a pleasant way. 

Her ruminations were interrupted when her towel was unceremoniously snatched by a marauding fugitive. 

The sight of her delightfully in the buff coaxed a grunt of appreciation from her partner. The pretty blush extended to every lovely corner of her as she strode obediently toward the whirlpool’s steps.

Red held out a chivalrous hand to assist her, another crack of thunder rumbling in the distance. 

Once engulfed by the warm, fragrant water, Rosalie allowed the man to pull her close. She giggled openly, nuzzling him and kissing him to her heart’s content. 

Raymond took a seat in the far corner of the tub, tugging the little minx into his lap. She maintained her hold on the Cohiba, waiting until they were both settled before holding the offering up to his lips.

She watched in fascination as the man’s tongue darted out to dab at the cigar, how his soft, sensual lips wrapped about the very tip. Her eyes grew hooded, thinking about how his mouth felt tormenting her most sensitive places. Raymond took a generous puff, blowing the smoke in a long, vertical plume. His dexterous fingers eased the item from the woman’s grasp as he took another puff, enjoying the sophisticated notes and flavors hidden within.

He reversed the cigar, holding it comfortably for the woman before him.

Rosalie’s plump lips took the place where his had been, her cheeks hollowing to pull the smoke into her mouth. 

Red’s entire body responded to the action, stiffening and lengthening, wondering what other things her mouth could do. 

The few large candles in the bath flickered lazily, casting them in a soft, yellow hue. The way the light danced on Rosalie’s wet skin stole the man’s attention for a long beat.

The woman caught him staring, a warm smile lighting her features as she leaned forward, peppering his lips with kisses.

She continued showering him in affection, soothing his headache by several degrees. 

Raymond set the cigar aside for the moment, settling into the task of sudsing them both with some of the decadent lather created by the bath products. Rosalie sighed her enjoyment, pulling the book they had begun the night before from her robe.

A contented smile pulled at Red’s lips as he heard the woman start to read, the soothing sound of her voice murmuring in French pleasing to his ears.

Now _this_ was the way to recover from a hangover.

*******************************************************************************************************************

The sound of a satellite phone echoed jarringly through the bath an undefined time later, disturbing the warmth and quiet of a lover’s embrace.

Deep grey eyes found piercing green, a tale of melancholy written in their depths. They knew their time together had been drawing quickly to a close. They had wished for one more week, one more day, one more hour, to stay safely in this sanctuary, just the two of them.

The sound rang loudly through the space again, demanding they relent to the inevitable. Rosalie turned to place her lips gently to Raymond’s, stroking the stubble of his cheek fondly as she poured her heart out to him.

Her lover responded in kind, understanding her emotions, feeling the loss of this haven just as much as she. His arm lifted as the broke, grasping the noisy device from his robe and answering the call.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice gruff and drowsy sounding.

Rosalie burrowed her face in his neck as she heard the muffled sound of Dembe’s voice on the other line. 

“What day is it?” Asked Raymond, running his fingertips along Rosalie’s shoulder blades. “Yeah, we will see you then.”

The man ended the call without another word, wrapping his arms back around his companion.

“Horace and Dembe will be here tomorrow.” He murmured against her shoulder, trailing warm lips along her collar bone.

Rosalie sighed, nodding with a forlorn look which made the man’s chest ache. “We will be okay, Rosalie.” He promised.

If there was anything of which Raymond Reddington was certain in that moment, it was the fact he would do everything in his power to keep this woman. He would protect her, care for her, she would want for nothing at his side.

“I know we will be.” She whispered sincerely, “I’m just not ready to leave yet.” She confessed, “I’ve loved every moment with you here, just the two of us. Getting to know you better, getting to care for you, to touch you, to make love with you, it’s been a dream.”

Raymond kissed her forehead, “So have I,” he assured. “We will assure our days are spent as happy as these, won’t we, little dove?”

Rosalie’s eyes shone slightly, looking to him for comfort. She nodded and burrowed deeper into his embrace. “Thank you for doing this, for making sure we had this time alone.”

Raymond held her tight, thanking every deity known to man he’d had the foresight to know they’d need this uninterrupted spell together. “Let’s go to our room, little dove,” he suggested, voice thick with emotion, “I want to hold you.”

Rosalie nodded sedately, leading them both from the large tub, drying off and heading for the spiral staircase.

Thunder boomed loudly, a bolt of lightning illuminating the home’s interior as they reached the main living space. The bright light cast the lovers in a pearly blue glow for but a moment. In those seconds, Red’s gaze sought Rosalie. She stood perfectly nude, framed in the home’s floor to ceiling windows, the ache in her eyes cutting the man to his core.

Raymond had waited so long for someone to look at him the way she did in those flickering seconds.

She looked like she could… 

Like she _might…_  

If given the chance… 

Rosalie looked at him like she could love him in ways no one ever had. In ways Raymond himself hadn’t yet imagined.

Aching hands searched the darkness for her, encompassing the feminine frame in a loving hold, guiding them both toward the sanctuary of their bedroom.

*******************************************************************************************************************

Raymond’s mouth was parted sensually, the pleasure he was feeling robbed him of his usually litany of arousing dialogue. The delectable pull of Rosalie’s warmth with each movement of her hips occupied his full and undivided attention. He had been ridden by a woman before, but never quite like this. 

The dwindling hours of their time at Fyr seemed to strike the most sensual of chords within his lover, bringing to light more of her proclivity for bestowing an endless river of affection.

The beautiful creature atop The man’s rigid member moved in a way which made Raymond’s whole body bow. The slow pace elongated every sensation, every ripple of her sex and every pulse of his shaft seemed heightened tenfold.

Rosalie’s slender fingers were threaded with Raymond’s thicker digits in a powerfully intimate gesture, pinning the man’s hands to the bed on either side of his head. This position shifted the woman ever so slightly forward, placing her pert breasts in the perfect position for Red to shower them with attention. He suckled greedily at the pink pebbled flesh, flicking his tongue rapidly over each delicious peak and grunting his satisfaction when each lick made the woman astride him buck.

“ _God_ , Rosalie,” he moaned, his body wracked with delicious ecstasy. He wanted to come and yet he didn’t, he wanted this gorgeous siren to continue her possession of him until the end of his days. 

She fit him so perfectly, her snug, wet quim captivating him in ways he had never thought possible. The smooth roll of her hips beckoned his attention to her beautiful body. “Do you have any idea what you _do_ to me, little dove? The way you take every inch of me, arching into me, begging me to take you deeper.”

“ _Raymond_.” She mewled, continuing her excruciatingly slow assault. “I…I _need_ you.” She whimpered, her molten grey eyes holding his imploringly as the man’s aching manhood was surrounded by her wet, quivering heat once again.

Raymond understood, he felt it too. “Despite this bone-deep satisfaction, I still can’t get enough of you.” 

“S-so good,” Rosalie shivered as she inched slowly down the rigid flesh. Her body relented little by little, allowing his length to fill her to the brim. “So deep.” She sighed as she took him to the hilt. 

The way Red’s girth settled inside her and the way she was already burning with desire, Rosalie was rather surprised she hadn’t come already.

Raymond growled his pleasure as the tunnel pulsed helplessly around him. 

“That’s it, _fuck_ , take every last inch.” He could feel every little flutter while her tight pussy worked to accommodate him. Without warning, he thrust sharply up into his lover, making her cry out with the sudden intensity.

Rosalie was already on the edge, the man could feel it. It would take little to no effort for Red to have her coming around his shaft. He continued his movements, thrusting into her quaking frame in short, sharp movements. His head remained perfectly poised over her g-spot, massaging it with every pass.

Rosalie rocked back into Raymond, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. “Yes, _right there_ …” She pleaded, desperate to meet the demands of her body. It felt like she was balanced on a razor’s edge, the need to reach the peak of orgasm outstripping all else.

“ _Raymond_ ,” She mewled, meeting each thrust, pushing him deeper inside her.

Her lover dropped his thumb to the hood of her sex, circling it just so. “Come for me, Rosalie.” He murmured, “Show me how good I make you feel.”

Rosalie moaned above him, her thighs twitching with the effort of chasing her climax. 

Red continued pumping her slick depths, driving her steadily out of her mind.

Another crackle of lightning split the landscape outside, casting them in an ethereal glow once again.

Raymond’s instincts took over, shifting them so he was sitting up against the bed’s headboard, his lover still astride him.

“Lean back, little dove, I’ve got you.” He purred, his large hands holding firmly to the small of her back.

Red had taken the liberty of discovering which position in the Tantra had caught her avid curiosity, pleased as hell to find what it involved was quite achievable and would leave the woman fully open to any caress which might tickle the man’s fancy.

Realizing what he meant, Rosalie flashed a shy little grin before she arched, allowing her body to bend backward. Her head rested just below Raymond’s knees, her hands reaching up to stroke his calves. 

Raymond moaned as another thunderclap rent the air like a cannon blast, a pearly blue streak filling the room, showing him the incredible view in vivid detail.

Rosalie was stretched out before him, still perfectly impaled on his throbbing cock, open in every way imaginable. From this position Raymond could happily touch and tease every last inch of her. Her full breasts in particular, stood on full display, still perfectly within reach of his wandering mouth.

“You are so beautiful,” he crooned, leaning forward and capturing a pert nipple between his lips, suckling hard on the pebbled peak as he rocked forward.

Rosalie moaned throatily, dipping her hips to meet him.

The pair continued their previous slow pace, falling into a comfortable rhythm which rocked every inch of Red’s shaft deep within her. Their breathing was smooth and steady, as unhurried as their lovemaking.

Raymond pulled Rosalie closer, shifting so her pelvis was flush with his.

The man’s cock settled so very deep, the rock hard head butting intimately against the woman’s cervix.

Rosalie gasped, a spine-deep tingling moving throughout her body. “ _Oh my God,_ ” She mewled, rolling her hips into the sensation, pushing him harder against the sensitive muscles.

The sensation made both their mouths drop open in gasping pleasure. 

“ _Jesus_ ,” groaned Raymond, bucking against her.

Rosalie shook from the intensity, an orgasm not far off.

Her lover watched in awe as she wound tighter and tighter, the slow, steady drag of his shaft inside her driving them both mad with need.

Red had seen many incredible works of art in his lifetime. Long lost relics, masterpieces he himself had stolen, they all paled in comparison to the shapely figure occupying his arms.

“I have seen so much in my life.” He murmured, kissing a sensual path up her ribcage. 

“I have seen the world and sailed the seas. I’ve been a traitor, a broker, a spy, a sailor...” He whispered, his mouth making its way to her breasts. 

Rosalie moaned her delight as she felt another love bite being made against her burning skin.

Red lifted his head to gaze at the beautiful creature before him, passionate and wild as a summer storm. 

“In all the far flung corners of this earth, I have never encountered anything as beautiful as you, basking in our lovemaking, moving with me as though you were made to fit. Bespoke. _Just for me._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: Telling Tales
> 
> "You disappeared for a _week! _"__
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _Rosalie shrugged her shoulders, "To be fair, I didn't know. I was merely a participant."_  
>     
> Raymond cleared his throat, doling out a rather pointed look in her direction.
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> _"I was merely a _very willing _participant." Rosalie amended immediately, garnering a snort of amusement from Dembe.___  
>     
> "There seemed to be some fun going on, so I just went with it. Really, Horace, at best, I was an accomplice." She turned to her companion in a stage whisper, "What would I get for being your accomplice?”
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> __  
> __  
> _"From the Federal Justice System...fifteen years?" A cheeky smirk tugged at Raymond’s mouth, "From _me _?...A nice firm hand across your-"__  
>     
> "Do NOT finish that sentence!" Bellowed Horace, utterly beside himself._  
> 


	20. Telling Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended Listening: "Would That I" by Hozier
> 
> Back to the real world ;) 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and I love to hear from you!

_Blacksite #13 a.k.a “Fyr” - Undisclosed Location, Norway - July 14th, 1999_

Slate grey eyes flitted along the expanse of Raymond Reddington’s chest, interestedly observing the glittering rays of sunlight which shimmered along the swath of curls dusting the man’s pectorals. Lone digits light as feathers traced the length of his torso as he slept, memorizing the feel of his warm skin rising and falling beneath her fingertips with every breath.

The storm had finally receded, leaving a soft fog rolling over dew-strewn hills and a sky alight with vivid pink, palest yellow, and moody lilac. The magnificent landscape beckoned, but the woman’s eyes were only for her lover. The man’s naked frame was drenched in golden light from the returning sun, allowing Rosalie an unrivaled opportunity to explore every inch of him.

She now knew the hairs on Raymond’s chest rode the finest of lines between blond and light brown, much like the hair on his head. The curls were delightfully soft to the touch and bore the faintest aroma of eucalyptus and basil. Rosalie lifted her head, nestling her chin against Red’s sternum and swirling her nails through the warm down.

Was there anything as soothing or enticing as the scent of a lover? 

She didn’t think so.

On any given day, Rosalie could pick up a variety of lovely scents on Red’s person. His aftershave, a touch of scotch, occasionally a whiff of cigar smoke, they all mixed with the unmistakable scent of warm male, those pheromones which were uniquely his. Today, she could also distinguish the tiniest hint of sex clinging to his skin, flooding her mind with all kinds of steamy recollections from the night before.

The tip of Rosalie’s nose traced the plains of Red’s torso, affectionately nuzzling here and there. Her wanderings took her across his nipple once, they tiny bud reacting instantly to the contact. The sight made her smile, knowing even as Raymond soundly slept, his body responded to her every touch.

A soft moan tumbled from his mouth as the woman brushed the dusky pebble once more.

A deep-seated urge to lick the tightening flesh came over her, but she abstained, determined to let the man sleep.

They had enjoyed a truly incredible week together, culminating in a seemingly endless night of erotic endeavors. The storm had roared outside while the air between the pair crackled with passion and meaning within the dark confines of the four poster bed.

Rosalie had been genuinely upset to find their time together rapidly approaching its close.

Raymond, however had known precisely how to soothe the melancholic ache they were feeling. He had calmed every corner of his lover with his warmth and affection, holding her in a lover’s embrace throughout the night.

Rosalie still couldn’t shake the way he had looked at her. Those green orbs had sparked with new emotions at every turn, each flash of lightning giving the woman a glimpse of the man within. She had been practically paralyzed by the man’s gaze. Raymond looked at her as though he knew, knew who she was, who she is, knew those closely guarded corners she wanted to give to him. 

Their connection had been tempered with every touch, every look, every word. They had whispered and purred their ardent praises, their all-encompassing desire in the darkened room. Each ensured the other knew, regardless of the loss of their quiet sanctum, that they would not be facing their unpredictable world alone.

Rosalie felt steady once again, ready to jump back into their wild life with both feet. She glanced surreptitiously at the small clock on the nightstand, noticing Horace and Dembe would not be at the house for a few hours yet. The realization made her smile broadly.

Her wandering fingers trekked away from the torso she had been so studiously perusing, migrating south toward her lover’s hips while her lips headed north.

Raymond awoke when he felt a pair of velvety soft lips graze his left nipple, followed by a warm, wet little tongue, flicking the tightened bud playfully. He carefully maintained the facade of sleep, waiting to see where this little bout of exploration would take his companion.

Rosalie caught the subtle twitch of his nose, knowing he was awake. She grinned, continuing her playing as though nothing were amiss.

Soft hands trailed down Red’s torso, along the sensitive skin of his sides, making the muscles beneath twitch.

The woman fought to maintain her silence, realizing she had found one of Raymond Reddington’s ticklish spots. This discovery was nothing short of thrilling, making Rosalie bite her lip with suppressed delight.

Red, on the other hand, was biting his tongue to keep from laughing. He wasn’t ticklish per se, he told himself, merely sensitive to such teasing strokes to his more sensitized areas.

Rosalie couldn’t help but ghost her fingertips along the spot again, sighing her enjoyment when the muscles of his abdomen pulsed spasmodically.

Raymond heard the soft sigh of excitement at her findings, knowing in his gut he had been found out. A grin threatened to take over his features when the hands continued their movement down toward his pelvis.

Reaching her desired locale, Rosalie rubbed warm, gentle palms along the man’s hips and thighs. 

Red let out a soft hum of enjoyment, relaxing into her ministrations. She carefully kneaded the muscles in his legs, making him grunt with pleasure as each tense spot gave in to her gentle coaxing. He became more and more aware of her touch the closer she got to his manhood, the silky soft hands skirting elusively around its base, never getting quite close enough for his liking. 

Raymond didn’t have to open his eyes to know his wayward cock was rising to attention. The damn thing had a mind of its own these days. Having no desire to listen to the likes of him, the twitching appendage had become finely tuned to the needs and whims of the voluptuous blonde straddling him. The man couldn’t very well blame it, the picture she must be painting nearly coaxed him to open his eyes to the bright morning sun.

Instead, he lay perfectly still, waiting, listening intently for what Rosalie would do next.

Slender fingers swirled and danced around his straining flesh, teasing and exciting the fattening length, never quite taking him in hand. Soft sighs and delicate mews of arousal abounded as the woman between Red’s legs sought to drive him spare.

“You’re making me hard.” His deep voice finally grumbled, sleep-addled and gravelly. 

The sound of his rumbling drawl brought a broad smile to Rosalie’s lips. “What a crying shame.” She murmured sympathetically, tugging the loose sheet slowly down his nude frame.

“It’s too early for you to steal my sheets.” He complained, stretching like a dozing lion as he was bared to his lover’s attention.

A feminine giggle could be heard from the vicinity of his feet, the sound making Red smile.

“I thought this might be a better way to wake up than that noisy alarm clock.” Rosalie admitted, continuing her playtime.

Raymond moaned softly, his eyes still closed, avoiding the blazing sunlight and simply enjoying the pleasurable wakeup call.

“It’s a shame you stopped feigning sleep,” Rosalie added idly, “I’ve always wanted to wake a lover with oral sex.”

A guttural sound issued from Raymond’s throat, the very thought of waking up to her luscious mouth wrapped around his cock made the man’s pulse race. 

“And now?” He asked, eager to hear what she planned to do with him since he had unknowingly foiled her dubious plot.

“Now I plan to slowly work you into a frenzy.” Rosalie informed him in a sultry little purr which sent goosebumps down the man’s frame. 

Red could certainly live with such criteria.

“I’m at your mercy, my dear,” he crooned, settling deeper into the plush bed, threading his fingers behind his head and spreading his legs a little further. “Do with me what you will.”

A husky sigh reached the man’s ears, widening his smile into a broad grin. He had known submitting to her desire to play would yield utterly decadent results. He wasn’t disappointed as the young woman set about exploring him with gusto.

Petal soft lips met his legs, peppering the stocky limbs with affection as Rosalie moved slowly back up his body. 

Raymond gave a relaxed sigh, focusing on the lovely sensations occurring all over his body.

The hot little mouth mapped him inch by inch, never moving faster than absolutely necessary. Several minutes passed and the man was practically purring his enjoyment, content to allow his lover’s every whim, however, Raymond simply had to look. He had to see the curvaceous figure straddling his thigh, trailing her loving mouth everywhere but where he most desperately needed to be touched. 

The man opened his eyes slowly, wincing a tad from the bright sunlight. As his vision adjusted, Red was greeted with a most delectable scene. 

Rosalie knelt, straddling his thigh, full breasts skirting his hip as she kissed her way up his torso. The valley between her legs was radiating heat, her dark eyes were watching him avidly, and those honeyed curls were in a right state, flowing wildly down her delicate shoulders.

“ _Son of a bitch_.” Grunted Raymond, thoroughly pleased with this wake up call. “Any time you desire to double as my alarm clock, you will find me quite amenable to the idea.”

Rosalie tittered, glad to find him in a good humor and seemingly enjoying the attention. “Careful, I might just take you up on that.” She took his bulging shaft in hand, sliding up and down the heavy length without a care in the world.

“Please do,” Red moaned, lurching into her grasp. He watched intently as she swirled her palm over his heated flesh, memorizing the sensation.

Rosalie observed her motions intently, her little pink tongue catching between her teeth periodically.

“Don’t even think about it.” Raymond’s deep, graveled voice cut right through her musings, seeing the devious plot taking shape in her mind.

“Why not?” She whined, placing an open-mouthed kiss to the very top of his member.

“Because,” Red hissed, feeling the soft kiss in every nerve ending from his head to his toes. “We are in for a very long flight and I’ll be hard pressed to behave myself if I haven’t had you at least twice.”

Rosalie giggled, “You are perfectly capable of controlling your urges. Besides, I wouldn’t leave you in such a state.” She insisted, pressing her warm, wet tongue to the underside of his shaft and licking slowly upward.

A carnal moan shook the man’s frame at the action. He needed to sideline this little expedition or he would be locked into a fifteen hour flight with this insatiable ache gnawing at him. “Able and willing are two very different adjectives, Rosalie.”

The woman tutted at the retort. “Come now, where’s this infamous Raymond Reddington control I’ve heard so much about?” She teased, her tone an impish one.

“Surely you’ve realized by now, I have little control where you are concerned.” He readily admitted, his head lolling backward as Rosalie’s lips left a trail of kisses along his cock.

The admission gave the woman pause, she looked up to his face with something akin to wonderment. “I didn’t realize I had garnered such a lofty position in your eyes.” She whispered, touched by such an admission.

A corner of Red’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. He had not intended to say such a thing aloud, thinking it a tad too revealing. Rosalie seemed to appreciate his honesty, though, and the man soon found himself gazing down at her in open affection as she continued to touch and stroke him.

“I’ll relent on one condition.” She murmured seductively, her wet tongue darting out to lick her plump lips.

Red grunted at the action, watching with pained arousal. “Name it.” 

“I expect to continue this later, uninterrupted. You’ll be a good boy while I have my wicked way with you.” 

Raymond couldn’t help the naughty grin which lit his features, a rampant shiver running the length of his body. 

Rosalie realized he looked like anything _but_ a good boy. 

“You can have me in whatever way your little heart desires as soon as we reach Hong Kong.” He growled, enjoying the quiver of delight the words sent down her frame. “As long as you’re a good little dove for me, right now.”

“ _Promise_?” Rosalie breathed, her voice belying her need.

“I promise,” Red chuckled, “Now _come here_ ,” he insisted, reaching for those wandering little hands.

Rosalie willingly abandoned her pastime, aroused to the point of distraction after her all too brief Tour de Reddington.

Raymond wrapped his arms around her naked frame, rolling them both so his lover was pinned beneath him. Her legs spread welcomingly, making room for the hot-blooded male nudging his way between her thighs.

His rigid length was nestled against her sex, brushing periodically against the sensitive pearl at its peak. 

Rosalie mewled heatedly, feeling the wetness of her center coating his bare shaft. The sensation of his smooth, heavy cock dragging along her clit had her quaking beneath him.

“Don’t keep me waiting.” She pleaded, claiming Red’s mouth and rocking her pelvis forward, catching the hard head of the man’s penis between her velvety lips.

Both their breaths hitched audibly, the desire to complete the union sans protection hanging heavy in the air around them.

Deep gray orbs sought out clever green, finding them locked on her with a ferocity Rosalie found thrilling.

“You’re playing with fire little dove.” He warned, reaching for the nightstand drawer. The leaning motion pressed his head  against the slick opening, garnering a wanton whimper from its owner. 

Rosalie brought her index finger to her lips, her teeth catching the tip of the digit, suddenly nervous she was being too forward.

Raymond chuckled darkly, the expression on her features deceivingly innocent. He decided to give her a reprieve, saving this particular discussion for a later date when they could both think straight. As it was, the man’s cock was painfully hard and in dire need of its tight, wet little playmate.

Once the condom was firmly in place, he realigned his throbbing crown with the sodden hole, inching forward at a torturous pace.

The woman gasped as her tight heat captured the rounded head, gratified by the intrusion. His girth moved steadily into her, ensuring Rosalie could feel every rock hard centimeter filling her up.

A wild, whimpering moan left her lips, this slow possession making her climb the walls.

Raymond snarled in response as her fluttering sex gave way to his thick member. Helpless spasms massaged his length perfectly as he pushed forward, seating himself in one long, slow movement, deep within his lover’s body.

They both huffed with the exertion as their connection was completed and Raymond’s heavy manhood was nestled as far as possible in Rosalie’s silky depths.

“You’re so damn _tight_.” He moaned, pulling out a fraction of an inch and snapping his hips forward.

The woman yelped, having just enough time to register the delicious slide of his length between her lips before the head of his cock butted intimately against her cervix. “Oh God,” she whimpered, feeling the familiar tingling at the base of her spine.

“You like it when I do that, little dove?” Raymond cooed, dropping his mouth to her pert nipples, the straining pebbles practically begging for his attention.

“I _love it_ when you do that.” Rosalie admitted with a soft shiver, “It’s so, _so_ intense.”

The man smiled around the tormented peak he was suckling, continuing his slow thrusts, alternating between tantalizingly shallow and impossibly deep.

Rosalie was damn near losing her mind, canting her hips upward to meet him as his shaft plundered every inch of her quivering pussy in fluctuating depths.

“Jesus, woman,” Red rasped his arousal, feeling how incredibly wet she had become. “This just drives you _wild_ , doesn’t it? Not knowing if I’m going to stay shallow or have you take me right to the hilt?”

Rosalie nodded feverishly, the variations truthfully holding her to an excruciating edge. “Yes, yes, _don’t stop_ , Raymond.” She pleaded, swiveling her pelvis to meet his thrust.

“ _Holy-_ ” Red’s brow furrowed and his mouth dropped open at the sensation. “That feels so good...” He groaned, grasping the woman’s shoulders and pulling her lithe body downward into his driving force.

Rosalie swiveled her hips in the same motion, her head falling back as Raymond’s thrust coincided at just the right moment, the rigid tip of his penis connecting soundly with her g-spot. Stars burst behind the woman’s eyes and her entire frame set to trembling.

“Oh...oh shit, _oh shit._ ” She moaned, arching greedily into his thrusts, urging him to a faster tempo.

“That’s it,” Raymond coaxed, snapping his hips forward into her clenching heat, feeling her rapidly relent to the pleasure he gave.

“ _Raymond_!” Rosalie cried out, the coil which had been winding tightly within her snapped with a vicious force, making her writhe and buck in desperation beneath her lover. 

“ _Yes_ , honey, come on my cock.” Red husked, nipping and kissing and teasing every available inch of her. He drew out her orgasm in every way possible, leaving the woman panting and quaking in his embrace.

Raymond slid his hands up under Rosalie’s shoulder blades and threaded his fingers intimately with hers. He pulled gently downward, so their hands were nestled together alongside her neck. One of his fingertips stroked the sensitive skin there, his mouth leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses along the hollow.

Rosalie mewled when his hips rolled forward again, her over-sensitized sex thrumming its delight.

Red groaned, feeling her feminine frame undulating beneath him, meeting his movements in a desirous rutting motion.

“You like when I arch into you, don’t you, darling?” His lover cooed, dipping her hips to complete their connection once again.

Raymond grunted, the rippling tunnel dragging him closer and closer to the euphoria he craved. “Oh, yes,” he purred, ear hovering over her eloquent mouth, waiting to hear more of her arousing murmurings. “I _love_ _it_ when you do that.”

“I don’t think we’ve gone fifteen hours without sex in the past week… How you think I’ll manage such a long flight without touching you is beyond me.” Rosalie teased, nibbling his earlobe and circling her thumbs along the backs of his large hands.

Red let out a sultry laugh, nuzzling the silky skin of her chest and shoulders to his heart’s content. “Should I expect to be accosted on my own plane, little dove?” He grinned, nipping the junction at the base of her neck.

Rosalie sighed melodiously, her inner muscles tightening of their own accord when the man hit a particularly delicious sweet spot. “ _Ohhh…_ Yes, right there.” She managed to squeak out the entreaty, her legs tightening around his hips, pulling him deeper.

Raymond watched her face glow with pleasure for a moment before he shifted back to shallow thrusts.

A sexy little growl of frustration left her lips, making the man grin wickedly.

“ _Fuck me_ , Raymond.” She begged, bucking her hips forward, soft needy pants pulsing from her lungs.

“Such a naughty request from someone so sweet.” He replied, kissing her cheeks before moving to her mouth, sliding his wet tongue seductively between her lips. 

Rosalie moaned throatily, “You aren’t dealing with my sweet side.” She insisted once he released her mouth.

“No?” Red beamed cheekily at her, inching forward in a slow, deep movement. “Which of your many sides am I playing with, my dear?”

“The wanton one,” she growled, trying like hell to establish a satisfying rhythm.

A warm, boyish grin lit the man’s features, “Oh, I like her. She’s an ill-behaved little minx who likes to torment me.”

“If you don’t satisfy this ache, she’s going to be the one tormenting you right into the mile high club, mid-flight, security be damned.” She retorted, squealing when Red thrust deep, only to return to his disciplined tempo a second later.

“Is that so?” He growled, rocking in an agonizingly slow pace. “My God, I had no idea you had exhibitionist tendencies.”

“Says the man who pinned me to every window in this house.” Rosalie quipped right back, impishly reminding him of his own proclivities.

“Yes I did.” Red agreed unabashedly, recalling each of those couplings with an overwhelming fondness, “How could I resist? I had the opportunity to take you in a _deeply_ compromising fashion without truly compromising you…” His eyes trekked lasciviously down her naked frame. “I have no desire to let anyone see you in such a beautiful, vulnerable state. Those moments are for my eyes alone.”

Rosalie felt a burning affection for the man flood her chest. It meant a great deal for her to know he respected their right to privacy, more importantly, to know he considered their lovemaking sacred, something not meant to be bandied about or shared with others.

“Is this the part where I find out you have a fetish for getting caught mid-act by security?” He joked, drawing Rosalie out of her besotted train of thought.

She had nearly forgotten about Dembe and Horace, rather preferring to keep them _out_ of this particular fantasy, thank you very much. “No, we’ll just the boys a time out with Edward. Put your tie on the doorknob.” She remedied with a mischievous grin, a tinkling laugh escaping her. 

The action made the tight tunnel of her sex ripple mercilessly around Red’s shaft.

The man groaned a helpless moan of delight, “ _Christ_ , it’s intense when you giggle.” He gasped, easing the ache in his member by thrusting a bit deeper into the fluttering warmth.

“How would you do it?” Rosalie breathed against his ear, “Would you bend me over the desk in your office?” Her voice was thoughtful, painting the erotic image for him, her lips brushing periodically against his hypersensitive flesh.

“I bet it would be terribly fun, wouldn’t it? You’d have to put your hand over my mouth,  though, you know I’m not a quiet lover.” She giggled in a silky purr.

“Thank God for that,” grunted Raymond, establishing the rhythm they needed for an earth-shattering orgasm. He very much preferred a vocal lover, and Rosalie had been thoroughly satisfying in that regard from the start of their relationship. “Keep going.” He fairly demanded, lost in the delectable imagery she was conjuring and the wet slide of his shaft deep inside her.

“I can just see these big, warm hands of yours.” Rosalie cooed, wriggling her slender digits, bringing his attention to where he held her. “Tugging my skirt up over my backside, eager to see if I’ve even bothered to wear panties.”

“ _Shit_ ,” husked Red, thrusting into her with abandon.

“I’ll probably wear them, knowing your penchant for stealing such things.” She teased playfully, kissing his neck and releasing a needy little moan as his cock stroked her rhythmically.

“You’d like it if I stole them.” He countered, “I bet I could get you to ask me, _ever so nicely_ , to take them from you.” Raymond purred, making his lover quiver from head to toe.

Rosalie nodded feverishly, knowing he could bring her to such a state with little effort.

“You could. You’d like carrying the little piece of lace around in your jacket pocket.” She murmured knowingly with a pointed, clever glint in her eyes.  Her whole body shivered with pleasure at her next statement.

“You’d enjoy it even more being the only one knowing I‘m wandering about your plane _perfectly bare and freshly fucked_.”

Rosalie bit her lip mischievously, placing an impish peck to the man’s cheek as he snarled his involvement. She had struck the necessary chord to bring him to his breaking point, and she damn well knew it.

Raymond moved forcefully against his lover, burying his throbbing shaft mercilessly in her fluttering depths. Dipping his hips just right, he dragged the fat length along her clitoris, giving the woman the jolt she needed to grip him like a vice.

A feminine cry clawed its way out of Rosalie, her body bowing with her release, clenching greedily around the powerful cock driving endlessly into her. “ _Raymond_ ,” she gasped, “I’m-“ her breath hitched, “ _Oh, I’m coming_.”

The whimper which quavered from her throat tugged the man along with her, his body relenting to the incredible embrace of her tight nirvana. 

“ _Jesus_ , Rosalie,” Red gasped and shuddered, riding out the wonderful high as deep, rumbling moans of ecstasy were coaxed from his mouth. His thrusts slowed minutely as his heavy orgasm pulsed into the waiting warmth, the silky passage milking every last drop into the latex sheath. “ _So. Fucking. Good._ ” Raymond panted, punctuating each word with a shallow thrust, easing the last ripples of his release into oblivion. 

Exhausted, the man burrowed into Rosalie’s waiting arms, nearly purring as she immediately set her fingertips to carding through his hair and stroking his back and shoulders soothingly.

She felt his warm, ragged breath in the crook of her neck, a deeply soothing sensation. “I adore you,” she whispered, unable to hold back the admission.

Red smiled softly to himself, kissing the woman’s neck before smoothing his palms along her curves, quieting her racing pulse as well as his own. “The feeling is very much mutual, my dear.” He assured, tilting his head up to caress her lips with his own.

****************************************************************

Raymond had thankfully taken on the duty of making breakfast for them as Rosalie set her associates to readying their next location.  In a rare stroke of coincidence, a bit of business in Hong Kong was necessary for both Raymond and Rosalie.

Raymond had a deal lingering in the ether with a rather persnickety arms dealer named Mengfu, who was irritably digging his heels in. The man was unwilling to move Red’s product further without meeting Reddington in person. Red had rolled his eyes at this, agreeing and setting their movements in play.

Rosalie was bent on securing another penthouse in their short stay, two if she could manage it. The burgeoning locale was a hot bed now the British monarchy had relinquished the city back to the People’s Republic of China. There was a great deal of money to be made in a place like Hong Kong, and the woman was determined not to leave revenue lying on the table.

The next three days would be extremely busy for both, but they were truthfully, looking forward to getting back into their usual rhythm.

Packing their belongings should have been a rather dull affair, but Raymond and Rosalie found themselves making lighthearted fun of the mundane process.

A playful goose here, an affectionate peck there, they were bound to forget half their belongings, but at least their spirits were high.

When Horace and Dembe were an hour out, Rosalie made her way to the master bath, showering leisurely before applying a bit of makeup and meandering back upstairs.

She was immediately confronted by a wily looking fugitive, his sudden appearance setting her to giggling.

“Yes?” She asked innocently, the fluffy towel she had wrapped around her leaving little to the imagination. The corner of the plush linen was tucked in the cleft between her breasts, accentuating the full bust, much to Raymond’s distraction.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dressed by now?” He chastised, feeling the appendage between his legs pulse excitedly at how little it would take to leave her naked before him.

“Aren’t _you_ supposed to be showering?” She countered slyly, a lone brow raising questioningly in his direction

“I was going to join you, but alas, you’re no longer wet.” He retorted, gesturing grumpily at her towel.

“Now who said I wasn’t _wet_?” She intoned, holding his gaze with one of utmost innocence.

Raymond certainly couldn’t tolerate such cheek from someone so scantily clad.

“Come here, you little minx.” He growled, snatching at the woman’s towel.

Rosalie laughed gaily, scrambling just out of his grasp, “I’m supposed to be getting dressed, remember ? I’m terribly busy at the moment.”

“Busy being a tease.” He accused, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms just once more before their security arrived. “Besides, I think you’ll find the task rather difficult.” Red insisted, eyeing her figure with interest.

Rosalie’s mouth dropped open in indignation. “What did you do?”

“I’m a criminal, my dear,” the man sauntered toward her with all the confidence of a bantam cock, “I’m not saying I had a hand in it, but _someone_ absconded with every last stitch of those garments you left hanging in the master closet.” 

The man was blatantly improvising, but he figured she couldn’t call his bluff as long as he kept her out of the bedroom.

The woman narrowed her eyes playfully, “Oh dear, what will it cost for you to return said items?” She questioned, allowing the fluffy towel to slip a few inches down, baring the tops of her full breasts to the man’s attention.

“Well, _as I previously indicated,_ ” he affected a tone of distinct peevishness, “I’m not saying it _was_ me, but I may have information I could be persuaded to part with regarding said petty theft.”

Rosalie shook her head in amusement, a broad grin commandeering her features. “In exchange?”

“I would require chocolates, a rather rare Hank Mobley record,” his expression turned wistful, “and another round of stolen cigars from Fidel Castro, if you please.”

“Hmmm…your price is pretty steep, and I’m fresh out of chocolates.” She wrinkled her nose, turning toward the bedroom. Her towel fell to the floor with a soft _thump_ , giving him a lovely view of her tight backside. 

“I guess I’ll just have to fly naked then.”

Red watched the bare hips sway this way and that as Rosalie walked across the living room. She turned coyly over her shoulder, “I don’t suppose you’ve seen my cashmere robe, either? It’s going to be a tad chilly outside.”

The man shook his head, his face the epitome of nonchalant, though truth be told, he was barely holding himself in check.

“Ah well,” she shrugged, making her way to the bedroom. Something told her she would find her attire safe and sound exactly where she left it. 

Rosalie hardly made it another step before a pair of warm, masculine arms wrapped around her, lifting her momentarily off the ground.

The woman squealed, wriggling helplessly in Red’s strong grip.

His lips sought her neck, chuckling playfully in her ear. “I suppose I could be persuaded to accept sexual favors in lieu of payment.”

Rosalie cackled with laughter, ceasing her squirming. “Oh you’re _ever so generous._ ” She replied scathingly, before her curiosity got the better of her. “...What kind of sexual favors?”

Raymond smirked, nipping the woman’s earlobe and pulling her into his lap in one of the wingback armchairs.

Rosalie settled against his chest, leaning so her head rested on his shoulder. One of her hands reached up to card through his short hair, the other rested atop his arm, which was wrapped securely around her waist.

“Aren’t we supposed to be settling down and getting dressed?” She accused, thinking it would be a poor greeting for their bodyguards to find them mid-coitous.

”We will, after a brief interlude.” Assured Raymond, trailing warm, wet kisses along her breast before capturing her chilled nipple in his scorching mouth.

Rosalie moaned, arching into the delectable pull of his tongue and teeth, her entire frame relaxing into his ministrations.

“I take that to mean you are content to indulge me in one more little idiosyncrasy?” 

The woman gasped when his warm hands cupped the backs of her knees, draping one of her toned legs over each of the chair’s arms, spreading her wide for what he had planned. A delicious little whine was pulled from her throat as Red circled his fingertips over her already throbbing sex. 

“I want an answer, little dove.” He purred darkly, reaching to pluck at the opposite nipple with his right hand.

“ _Yes_ ,” she hissed, bowing into his touch with obvious pleasure. “Yes, Raymond.”

A deep, warm chuckle vibrated against her back, adding to Rosalie’s excitement. 

“ _Good girl_.” 

Something about the phrase made Rosalie shiver, a sensation which was heightened tenfold as she heard the familiar sound of Raymond’s belt buckle being disengaged.

**************************************************************************************************

It was nearly noon when a chime rang throughout the tower, alerting the couple to the presence of others on the property. With a low murmur of dissension, they disengaged from their cuddling session on the plush sofa.

Raymond was back in his three-piece suit, his sunglasses and fedora waiting patiently on the coffee table. The stormy grey color looked good on him, pairing beautifully with the crisp white shirt and bold geometric tie, which Rosalie straightened for him before ascending from the sofa.

The woman was once again in a smart pencil skirt and comfortable pumps. The chocolate brown wool skirt was warm and decadent, contrasting nicely with the pale taupe of her cashmere blouse. The overall effect was timeless and incredibly flattering to her figure.

They moved sedately toward the stairs, descending the polished steps without a word.

Red had turned introspective as they’d lay curled together in those final minutes of freedom. The weight of a new relationship in their tumultuous world had made itself known. The man had realized with a jolt, it’d been years since he’d been this happy. Raymond had been content, certainly, and on occasion his life had been great fun, but he now realized general contentment and bone-deep happiness felt quite different. 

Rosalie made him very happy, and he didn’t have to ask to know she felt the same way. The radiant smiles and laughter which poured from her being when they were together were ample evidence of her happiness.

He was determined to keep this joyous corner of their world, this one untarnished haven in which they could both retreat.

As the pair reached the base of the stairs, Raymond turned, grasping his lover tightly. Cradling Rosalie’s face in his hands, he searched her eyes. He was desperate to convey what needed to be said. They would be okay, there would be time for them, he would make absolutely certain of it.

He found the grey orbs bright with affection and just a dash of excitement.

“ _Us_ .” She whispered, placing a gentle hand to his chest. “All that matters is this, right here.” She kissed him soundly, driving the point home. “We will learn, we will botch the job on occasion, but we will make this work for _us_.” She promised, beaming confidently up at him.

A soft smile tugged at Red’s lips, and he leaned forward, kissing her passionately as he guided them toward the front door. When his hand met the polished brass handle, he released her mouth, resting his forehead against hers for a beat.

Rosalie crinkled her nose and grinned, swiping a smudge of lipstick from the corner of his mouth.

“ _Us_.” He agreed, throwing the door open wide.

Dembe and Horace stood waiting on the threshold with completely different expressions on their faces.

Dembe was serene as always, though fighting a losing battle with a broad grin. He had thoroughly enjoyed his role in bringing Raymond and Rosalie together, and was terribly pleased at the obvious connection which now radiated from them.

Horace, on the other hand, looked like the kid who didn’t get what the wanted for Christmas but was still trying to be polite about it.

****************************************************************

“My god, did the two of you do _anything_ but have sex all week?” The surly bodyguard whinged in disgust, ascending the staircase from the en-suite. He had happened upon the waste bin in the bath, which turned out to be rather incriminating.

Raymond and Rosalie sat across from each other, looking at one another with matching expressions of heated smugness.

The group had settled in the living area, enjoying a cup of tea and hearing what Dembe and Horace got up to in their absence.

“Stratos send his regards,” Dembe inclined his head toward Raymond, carefully gliding over Horace’s outburst. “He needed to stay and finalize the changes to the shipping routes in Athens, but he will meet us in Sri Lanka in the spring. He hopes you had a relaxing getaway.”

Red nodded, catching the spark of mischief in Dembe’s smile. Stratos no doubt said something a scant more colorful, which Raymond would hear later when other ears weren’t present.

Rosalie watched their silent communication, quirking a lone brow at the two. The young woman’s cheeks glowed a vivid pink as her mind unhelpfully supplied a reminder regarding the particularly spirited coupling which occurred in the wingback chair Red was now occupying. 

The man caught her blush and seemed to read her mind, dragging his fingertips along the supple leather of the arms where her legs had been draped a mere hour ago, his gaze never leaving hers. The green eyes darkened, his head tilted, an eyebrow lifted suggestively.

Rosalie swallowed thickly around a mouthful of piping hot Darjeeling. “Do we have to leave?” She questioned in a quiet voice.

Raymond winked playfully at her, his expression bearing a wealth of risqué promises.

Dembe grinned slyly, watching the exchange and sipping his own beverage regally. “You both look quite well rested. I take it you slept soundly?” He asked innocently, perfectly concealing his amusement in his teacup.

Raymond flashed a wolfish grin at his friend, knowing full well what he was playing at.

“Hardly left the bed.” He intoned, rather lasciviously. 

Horace rolled his eyes, leaning one hand on the kitchen island’s marble top.

Rosalie beamed at Red and Dembe before adding an innocuous, “Horace, dear, could you make a note in my construction folio? I would like all the countertops remodeled to be the same height as these.” Her dark eyes traveled pointedly to the counters and then to Raymond, offering a solicitous wink.

Red struggled not to snort with laughter as the Egyptian pulled his hand back from the surface as though he’d been scalded. “Got it, boss.” He murmured in a tone of deep revulsion.

Rosalie shook her head for his petulant manner, standing to bring their cups to the kitchen sink. “Well, shall we?”

There was a soft murmur of agreement, followed by the movement of several feet.

Horace was the first into the stairwell, not waiting for the others to follow.

Raymond took a couple steps, waiting for his companion, who made a beeline for Dembe.

The young man looked taken aback as the blonde threw her arms around his broad shoulders. 

“I can’t thank you enough for your hand in this, sweetheart.” She whispered in his ear, “This time together meant the world to both of us.” 

Red grinned as he watched the scene play out, hearing the muffled thank you the woman whispered in the other man’s ear, his heart skipping a beat at the endearment she used.

A bright smile lit Dembe’s features as he returned the affection, squeezing the woman tightly and telling her it was no trouble at all.

Rosalie placed a gentle kiss to her friend’s cheek before striding toward Raymond, happily taking his warm hand in hers.

****************************************************************

They had been in the air only twenty minutes when the innkeeper had reached her limit.

“If you have something to say, Horace, I suggest you spit it out.” She snapped heatedly, “I’m not enduring another fourteen hours of this.”

The sullen bodyguard whipped around his beetle black eyes narrowed peevishly, “You owe me an apology.”

“ _For what_?” Rosalie balked incredulously.

Red and Dembe sat in their usual seats watching the drama unfold. Both had been aware of the bodyguard’s sour mood, and had remained in the main cabin to ensure Rosalie wasn’t subjected to a lecture for the shenanigans they had planned.

“For not keeping me in the loop and just traipsing off without security. Yet again!” Horace retorted peevishly, his arms crossed in a huff.

“I’m sorry, I don’t see the problem here.” Rosalie sighed, snapping her book closed. “We were perfectly safe, you saw the tower, it’s literally a stronghold, we could have held out there for a month and not have a problem.”

“The problem?” snapped Horace, “You disappeared!"

Rosalie shrugged her shoulders, "To be fair, I didn't know. I was merely a participant." 

Raymond cleared his throat, doling out a rather pointed look in her direction.

"I was merely a very willing participant." Rosalie amended immediately, garnering a snort of amusement from Dembe. 

"There seemed to be some fun going on, so I just went with it. Really, Horace, at best, I was an accomplice." She turned to her companion in a stage whisper, "What would I get for being your accomplice?”

Raymond grinned impishly, leaning toward her in a conspiratorial manner. "From the Federal Justice System...fifteen years?" A cheeky smirk tugged at his mouth, his voice dropping to a low, seductive purr. "From _me_?...A nice firm hand across your-" 

"Do NOT finish that sentence!" Bellowed Horace, utterly beside himself.

Rosalie couldn’t help but giggle softly, having entirely too much fun at her guard’s expense. 

“Oh it’s funny now, just you wait,” warned Horace in a snarl, “Florian is going to have both your heads.”

“ _Excuse_ _me_?” Asked Rosalie, her tone immediately sharpening.

“Yeah,” growled her guard, “Florian knows. When I thought you were being chased all over Athens by hostiles, I contacted him, as per your breach instructions.”

The young woman’s mouth was agape, “You didn’t.” She breathed, eyes going wide.

“Oh he most certainly did, Fille.” Florian’s deep, sullen drawl rumbled from the door to the plane’s office.

Rosalie’s eyes closed and her lips pursed when she heard the sound.

“ _Shit_.”

**************************************************************************************************

“What are you _thinking_ , Rosalie?” Florian questioned in a whispered hiss. “All of this time, all of the work you have put into your empire, and you are going to throw it away to be with Raymond Reddington.”

The woman’s father figure had demanded to speak with her privately, tugging her into the private office without so much as a glance at Reddington.

“I thought you had no objections to Raymond, you said it yourself back in Bulgaria. You said as much as a criminal can be a gentleman, so he is.” Rosalie accused, her roaring temper firing up at once. “What possibly could have changed?”

“I said I had no objections to you working with the man.” Corrected the old mobster staunchly, “I never expected you to fall into bed with him. Really, Rosalie, what has gotten into you?”

The woman’s cheeks flushed despite her best efforts, confirming she and Raymond had become intimately acquainted. “How is pursuing a romantic relationship tantamount to me throwing my empire away?” She fought back, shifting the conversation away from her sex life.

“You have love in you, Rosalie.” Florian reminded, his voice despondent, “A love you once held most covetously. People know this, can sense it in you. It makes them think you are soft, vulnerable. It beckons to our criminal brethren. Many want it. The possibility of touching it, feeling it, basking in all that is a whole and untarnished human being is too good an opportunity to pass up. Even more wish to snuff it out. They hate the knowledge there are still criminals in our world not as broken and tainted as them.”

“There is nothing about me I don’t hold covetously, Florian,” murmured Rosalie in a deadly purr, “and, do you honestly think Raymond is _either_ side of that coin?”

“You don’t know him, Rosalie, no one can truly-” he began, but the woman cut across him. 

“I know him.” She insisted, rather offended he thought her so short-sighted and naïve.

“Mon Tresor, I want you to be happy, I do, but not like this. Not with him. Do you have any idea what you’ve walked into?”

“I find your question an insult to my intelligence. I know better than anyone what I’ve walked into, _Pére_ , I’ve spent nearly every waking moment with the man for the past year. Every. waking. moment. If he were more nefarious, if he had ill intent with me of any kind, I would have found out by now. He would have made a mistake in this amount of time, there would have been a red flag, a warning sign, _something_ , and yet there has been absolutely _nothing_!” 

The young woman stood from her chair, digging her heels into the carpet and matching Florian’s ire ounce for ounce.

***********************************************************************************

Raymond sat glaring pointedly at Horace, who was seated next to another Frenchman with short dark brown hair and vivid green eyes who went by the name of Cedric. Rosalie had been quite peeved at the sight of the younger man and utterly terrorized by the sudden appearance of Florian before being unceremoniously dragged into Red’s office.

“This was hardly necessary.” He growled at the men, listening to the dull roar of the older mobster’s booming voice in the other room, interrupted regularly by his protégé’s fiery retorts.

“I was following the protocol my employer instilled.” Defended Horace, quite annoyed with the turn of events as well. 

“You didn’t need to sneak two stowaways on board to berate her at 30,000 feet.” Red called him out, “Once Dembe made you aware of the situation, you should have called off the Corsican brigade.”

“Florian would have come to investigate regardless. You’re lucky he didn’t just show up one day while you were in Norway. If you had told me what you were planning this could have all been avoided.” The man added, “You can’t just run off with her.” 

“Like hell I can’t.” Reddington assured, crossing his legs and settling comfortably in his chair. “If that woman and I decide we want to disappear to the goddamn moon for a few weeks there’s not a damn thing you or Florian will be able to do about it.”

The Egyptian lifted baleful black eyes toward his charge’s fugitive boyfriend. “I won’t begrudge the two of you your time alone, but next time you need to tell me. It is my job to protect her, and I can’t do my job if I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

The two men sat in an uncomfortable silence, neither willing to admit the other had made a reasonable point.

Dembe simply sat reading his book, occasionally shaking his head ruefully.

Cedric simply watched, eerily quiet and listening intently.

Raymond was just about to argue another point of irritation when the voices in the office reached a volume incapable of being ignored, the conversation descending into rapid, snarling French.

**************************************************************************************************

“ _You don’t get to decide this for me, Florian!_ ” Rosalie snapped, at her wit’s end with this conversation.

“You are coming back to Marseille and this is final! Your network can stand to have you two separated until you get your head on straight, since Reddington can’t seem to keep it in his trousers.”

“Do not talk about Raymond as though he’s some common thug.” Rosalie hissed viciously, offended on the man’s behalf.

“He is little more than.” Barked Florian, his temper getting the better of his tongue.

“You must truly think very little of me, _Pére_.” Bit back Rosalie, appalled by the man’s response.

“What I think of _him_ has nothing to do with what I think of you.” He insisted, cheeks flushing minutely.

“It does. If you truly think Raymond Reddington is half as horrible as you are saying he is, what does it say about me, being his lover?”

Florian winced at the word, displeased by the unabashed confirmation of the pair’s involvement.

“ _Yes_ ,” Rosalie nodded, “I’ve taken him as a lover, a confidant, a romantic partner. In every sense of the word. You may not like it, I certainly can’t make you accept it, but I can tell you my opinion of Raymond will not change simply because you don’t approve. You’ve made your feelings known, but unfortunately for you they hold no weight in how I live my life. I will not go back to Marseille and I will not walk away from him.”

Raymond had quietly opened the door, catching the tail end of their conversation. He fought to keep his features neutral, eventually settling on his usual polite although mischievous smile.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Florian’s robust French accent growled the words dangerously.

Any normal criminal would have the common sense to be afraid of Florian Armel, but he supposed Raymond Reddington was not an average criminal. The younger man stood before him supremely unconcerned with the deadly territory he had just waltzed into.

“I believe I’m headed to Hong Kong.” Reddington quipped in a tone bordering on nonchalant. 

A challenge was being issued with his eyes, however. The young buck was daring Florian to say something, anything about the fact he and Rosalie were obviously an item. 

“Little dove, there’s a nice big cup of earl grey waiting for you in my usual seat, put a spoonful of that wonderful wildflower honey in it, you’ve nearly shouted yourself hoarse.” He said fondly, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, “I’ll take up the next round of witty banter in your stead.”

Rosalie glanced wide eyed between the two formidable men. She did not want Raymond fighting her battles for her. She nearly said so when the man’s flashing green eyes met hers meaningfully, willing her to trust him in this instance.

Reluctantly, she nodded, leaning forward to kiss his cheek before striding from the room.

When the door closed with a snap behind her, the younger criminal turned, suddenly much more foreboding than he had been moments earlier, to the only remaining person in the room. “My father considered himself a bit of a disciplinarian.” He began, setting the stage for one of his parables. “He was a robust man, I always felt him akin to that old cartoon character Bluto. He was who he was, so at least we were never taken by surprise when he acted the part of a complete bastard.” Clever green eyes swiveled to stare down Florian’s icy blues, “You, on the other hand, have come as quite a surprise.”

“Do you have any idea what kind of danger you’re in, _boy_?” The Frenchman snarled, “You have overstepped. You have tread into my world and I do not take kindly to anyone breaching my boundaries, especially when it is a member of my family they seek.”

”Make no mistake, Florian, I know exactly what lines I’ve crossed and whose toes I’ve stepped on.” Red’s voice dropped to a deadly rumble, “I wouldn’t have tipped your canoe if I wasn’t confident me and mine would stay dry.”

“You’re certain of that fact?” The old mobster’s tone was incredulous.

Raymond smiled benignly, “Few things in life are certain Florian, but this, you can hang your hat on,” he quipped, setting his fedora carefully on his knee. “I am no one’s ‘ _boy_ .’ You are _done_ berating Rosalie for choosing what makes her happy.”

“She is too young, she doesn’t know what she wants, what she needs.” Insisted the older man, admittedly grasping at straws now.

Raymond shook his head, “Rosalie is a capable, formidable woman, Florian.” He reminded, ensuring not a drop of lasciviousness dripped into his voice. “She is perfectly able to date whomever she pleases, and you should give her more credit than this. Do you honestly think I haven’t been vetted against her own standards for a romantic partner?” Raymond found himself offended on her behalf, “If something about me had triggered any concerns for her, any at all, there’s no doubt in my mind she would have turned me away. Yet here we are.”

“How long has this farce been going on?” Florian asked, the betrayal evident on his face.

“Don’t call my relationship with her a farce.” Raymond growled.

Florian scowled heatedly, “ _Relationship_ ? You think this is a _relationship_ you’ve entered into with her?”

“It sure as hell isn’t a one-night stand.” He spat, “Rosalie and I are dating, Florian, and your disapproval isn’t going to change things. You can demand to speak with her, you can shut me out of the conversation and you can even blame me for your discontent for all I care.” He conceded flatly, glowering at the other man. “However, you _will not_ berate or belittle that woman in my presence or anyone else’s again. Should you do so, I’ll have no qualms about bouncing you from my plane at the nearest broken down dirt patch calling itself an airstrip and ask for her forgiveness later.”

Florian’s mouth closed with a snap. He had not realized how angry he had become while speaking to his young protégée. The older man suddenly felt a tad abashed.

“Considering how much Rosalie cares for you, I will instead drop you off at a lovely little airport just east of Helsinki. We will need to stop and refuel for our next leg, so the timing is perfect.” Raymond stood, “I’m going back to the main cabin, if you choose to join us, I expect you to keep a civil tongue in your head.”

The young criminal straightened his suit, giving Florian a curt nod before striding purposefully from the room.

**************************************************************************************************

They did indeed make  a quick stop near Helsinki to refuel for the main leg of their journey and to drop off Florian and Cedric. The older Frenchman sat swirling his drink as they taxied, and disembarked without so much as a word or a glance at the lot of them.

Rosalie had watched the plane’s door slam behind him, flinching at the noise as though she’d been slapped in the face.

Raymond watched her carefully, waiting for her to find her voice.

The lithe figure stood, making herself a drink before stepping into Red’s office.

The man mirrored her movements, closing the heavy door to give them a moment’s privacy.

Rosalie rested her backside against the edge of the desk, staring moodily at the man’s empty chair. “That couldn’t have gone more poorly.” She sighed, taking a long sip of her gin.

“Oh, I don’t know,” murmured Red, taking the seat in front of her and resting his warm hand on her knee. “He could have caught me bending you over this particular piece of furniture.” His knuckles rapped the hard surface, a wry smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

Rosalie couldn’t help a reluctant snigger. She rose only to settle again in the man’s lap, burrowing her face in his neck and wrapping her arms around him.

“That… is definitely true.” She conceded in a muffled voice.

Raymond set his drink aside, squeezing the woman in a tight embrace. “I know it wasn’t how we had planned to let him know, but now at least he can start coming to terms with it.”

Rosalie sighed heavily, “ _If_ , he comes to terms with it. I was rather pointed with the man. He definitely didn’t appreciate it.”

“You handled him well.” Insisted Red, having caught a fair bit of their argument through the door.

“Not well enough to keep you out of the fray.” She needled playfully, lifting her head to cast a sly glance at him.

The man shrugged, “How a man speaks to a woman says a great deal about that man. What a man allows to be said to a woman in his presence is just as telling. I was not about to tolerate Florian bellowing at you like you were some rebellious teenager.”

Rosalie kissed his cheek, appreciative of his reasonings for intervening on her behalf. “Such moves will garner you Marietta’s undying affection.” She tittered fondly.

“I’ve already absconded with the man’s daughter, I think I’d be pushing my luck to turn my charms toward his wife.” Raymond crooned mischievously. "He very well might try to kill me."

Rosalie wrinkled her nose adorably, “Ew. New subject.”

Raymond let out a hearty laugh, tucking another curl behind her ear. “Very well, where are we staying in Hong Kong, then?”

“The Peninsula.” Rosalie inclined her head toward the glossy black folio sitting on the desk, showing a gleaming building and an opulent living room.

“Tell me you don’t own the penthouse.” Questioned Red, utter disbelief etched in his expression. The Peninsula Hotel was a long-standing icon of luxurious accommodations in Hong Kong.

“Not outright, no. I have contracts in place with the top three luxury hotels in Hong Kong and Beijing. I take on the upkeep of their penthouses and they conveniently look the other way as top tier criminals wander into their lobbies. They get a cut of the client’s stay but only ever do business with me, ensuring I take on all the risk. In the unlikely event a client is found and arrested, they can plead ignorance and point the finger at my organization, which of course, doesn’t exist.”

“What’s their cut?” He asked, thoroughly intrigued.

“According to the contract? 60/40.”

Red flashed a mischievous grin, “What’s the actual split?”

“After my upkeep and network security fees, it’s more like 80/20.” Murmured Rosalie in an undertone.

Red chuckled dryly, “My, my, you _are_ a little racketeer, aren’t you?”

**************************************************************************************************

The long flight passed quietly and without incident. The exhausted group mostly used the time to catch up on some much needed sleep. Dembe and Horace dozed in their usual seats while Raymond and Rosalie were nestled in the nearby loveseat. 

The pair passed the hours quietly, drifting in and out of sleep and occasionally murmuring to one another in soft whispers. They had needed the closeness and simple intimacy after their altercation with Florian. They soothed and assured each other with gentle words and comforting caresses.

They thankfully landed in the dead of night, allowing the jet's occupants to head straight for their lodgings to bathe and catch a few more hours of sleep. 

The glimmering skyline of Hong Kong was partially obscured by a dreary haze, casting a drowsy, jet-lagged pall over the car's occupants even as they pulled up to the shining exterior of the Peninsula on high alert. Ted Beaumont was waiting for them, having already done a preliminary sweep of the building. It was not usual for their little group to be in a location with other people, and they therefore took several extra precautions.

Seeking to remain as inconspicuous as possible, they moved quickly and quietly toward the elevators upon reaching the hotel's resplendent lobby.

With Red's fedora pulled low and Rosalie's face hidden by an intricate fan, they stealthily made their way into the penthouse elevator. The young innkeeper already had a copy of the necessary keys so they needn't bother with the front desk. The elevator door had nearly closed when a large hand jutted into the space, stopping the group from making their escape.

Rosalie sighed her annoyance as a suave-looking fellow in a pale grey suit appeared in the re-opening doorway, stepping inside and allowing the doors to close.

"Welcome back, Ms. Øllegaard, we've been expecting you." He glanced surreptitiously at the woman while she neatly folded her fan.

"No problems, I trust?" She asked, keeping her expression schooled and the man's attention off of Raymond.

"None at all, madam." He nodded, stepping out to guide them into the magnificent apartment.

**********************************************************************************************************

Raymond and Dembe settled into the penthouse as Rosalie dealt with the man who turned out to be the hotel’s manager. Horace and Ted lingered in the background like vigilant sentinels, neither seemed to be fond of the man.

Red watched the woman go about running her empire, his seat in the lounge providing the perfect vantage point into the parlor where she stood talking.

She handled the manager with kid gloves, allowing her warmth and vivacity to soothe and bend his will to her own. Rosalie was tactful, calculated in her dealing, her focus not faltering once from the man before her. Raymond found the entire setup of her Hong Kong operations immensely interesting. The woman could very well have bought or booked the penthouses in perpetuity, but instead she kept the hotels in on the deal. It was rather clever, really. By keeping the middle man in on her shenanigans, she gave the companies and men like this incentive not to rat out her clientele.

By the end of their lengthy conversation, the manager was in a boisterously good mood, apparently quite thrilled for them to be there. 

Rosalie nodded and smiled brightly, finally coaxing him out of the suite and back down to his office. She slumped against the door with an exasperated sigh when she was finally rid of him, making Red chuckle. Her dark eyes turned and winked at him before she set about her nightly routine.

While Rosalie was occupied, Raymond stepped into the kitchen grabbing a beer before setting out to locate the woman’s security. 

Horace was fastidiously unpacking, seemingly intent on getting to sleep as soon as possible.

Red knocked on the door frame, silently requesting to enter. 

The Egyptian nodded stoically, gesturing him into the room.

The fugitive held out the cold bottle of the other man’s preferred beer. “You were right.” He murmured, willing the bodyguard to take the drink.

“About what?” Horace questioned, eyeing the beverage warily.

“If I were going to poison you, I wouldn’t do it myself when we’re alone in a secure safehouse. I have people for that sort of thing.” He reasoned, wiggling the bottle at the serious man until he finally took it.

“I should have included you in my plans for taking Rosalie to Norway.” Admitted Red, only a little begrudgingly. “Your job is to protect her and it is extremely important to me that you do that job.”

Horace sat on the edge of his bed, twisting the top off the bottle and taking a long drink from its contents. 

“I could have called off Florian.” He conceded, meeting the other man halfway. “I’m happy for you both, really and Rosalie is obviously very happy with you. I just need you to realize her safety must be my number one priority. Even if that means you running your plans by me before absconding with my charge."

"I can live with that criteria, I would expect nothing less from the head of her security." Agreed Raymond, doing his best to bury the hatchet with the man.

“What can I do to help set things right?” Horace asked, glancing down the hall as his charge headed for the penthouse’s kitchen. "I didn't mean for Florian to react the way he did. He was harder on her than was strictly necessary."

Red looked thoughtfully after the woman as well, an idea coming readily to mind. “Do you know how I can reach the Armel’s?”

**************************************************************************************************

Rosalie was sitting atop the kitchen counter minutes later with a small pint of lemon sorbet and a spoon. “My body has no clue what time it is.” She confided, hearing familiar footsteps wandering into the kitchen. 

Raymond stole a spoonful of her confection with a wink before silently pressing a satellite phone into her hand.

Rosalie looked curiously at the object as the man placed his lips to her temple and strode from the room.

Rosalie watched him go, lifting the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”

“ _Bon Soir, Mon Fille._ ” Came the warm, gentle voice of Marietta Armel.

“ _Bon Soir, Mamon_.” Rosalie immediately sniffled, surprised to say the least.

“Don’t listen to this grumpy old buffer.” She quipped dryly, scowling at her husband who was seated across the room. Her heart ached when not so much as a titter came through the other line.

“ _Pére_ is so disappointed,” Rosalie whispered in a small voice. She hated being at odds with the man.

“ _C’est un peste_ , and he _will_ get over it.” Stated Marietta matter-of-factly, receiving a look of indignation from the man. “If he does not, I will slap him around.” 

The mental image brought a soft smile to Rosalie’s lips. “Oh, _Mamon_ , what issue could he possibly have with Raymond? He does business with the man for God’s sake. Up until that whole mess in Munich, Florian had absolutely adored him.”

Marietta smiled wryly, placing a hand to her husband’s cheek, “You are the closest thing we have ever had to a child, _mon rose sauvage_. Secretly, I think he believes no man will ever be good enough.”

The icy blue eyes misted the man’s frustration, a curt nod confirming his wife’s assessment of the matter.

“I can’t stand them being at odds.” Admitted Rosalie, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.

“They won’t be for long, Florian will give up his tirade just as quickly as he took it up.”

The man in question crossed his arms rather petulantly.

“He just needed to make his displeasure known. Tell Mamon, how long has this been going on?” 

“A week,” Rosalie answered honestly, “though _he_ didn’t believe me when I told him so.”

“ _Non_? Well, I suppose not, he mentioned the two of you were cozy at Marcello’s, but who am I to judge, if you say it has been only a week, I believe you.” 

Florian shook his head minutely, disbelief etched in his features.

“What brought this all about? _Pére_ mentioned something about you disappearing.”

“Raymond took us on a little getaway.” Rosalie confessed, an unavoidable smile tugging at her lips. “You know how difficult it is to get a moment alone when you have around the clock security.”

Marietta laughed a throaty, genuine laugh. “I certainly do, I take it he took you to one of your secure sites?”

The older woman would be lying if she said she didn’t want to hear every last detail, with her younger years now firmly behind her, it was always thrilling to hear the wild tales of young love. A joyous sigh poured through the other line, making Marietta’s features brighten considerably.

“He took me to the tower in Norway.” Rosalie confided, “It was spectacular, _Mamon_ , we were completely safe, comfortable, and perfectly alone.”

The old Frenchwoman was nodding her approval, “You would not be with Reddington if he was not a good man. I have taught you too well in this regard. Florian seems to have forgotten he wasn’t the _only_ _one_ teaching you a few tricks.” Her tone turned a hair chastising while recollection dawned on her husband’s face. 

Rosalie had been taught the perilous art of tangoing with criminal men by Marietta herself, and the older woman damn well knew what she was doing.

“ _Raymond sounds like a perfect gentleman._ ” The woman continued in a carefree voice while her sharp hazel eyes held her husband in a vice grip.

The fight left Florian almost immediately, his head nodding reluctantly. He stood from his seat, kissing the fiery love of his life on the temple before heading to his office for a drink to salve his wounds.

Marietta watched him go, blowing a kiss to him as he turned to leave.

Meanwhile, Rosalie’s thoughts were firmly fixed on the man down the hall. “He is a gentleman, and a good man. He’s clever, kind, someone I can easily trust with my life.”

“Good.” Sighed Marietta, her relief evident.

“What do I do, _Mamon_?” Asked Rosalie, feeling very much like a child in that moment.

“ _Go_ , enjoy your lover.” She retorted mischievously, “Bask in his attention, his affection, and return it tenfold. He is the one who called _me_ , after all. He was worried for your happiness after all that transpired. I like that in a man. Florian is old and soft," She insisted quite fondly, "he will sort himself out or I will do it for him. For now, my dear, simply enjoy what life has brought you.”

The younger woman beamed a watery smile, “ _Merci, Mamon_.”

“ _Au revoir, mon fille._ ” Marietta murmured, ending the call with a soft _click_.

Rosalie set the phone on the countertop, making her way immediately toward the master bedroom.

She found Raymond seated in one of the comfortable armchairs with a glass of scotch and a questioning expression.

Rosalie perched herself in his lap, draping slender arms around his neck. “You are wonderful,” she insisted, kissing him softly on the cheek.

“I take it Marietta managed to talk sense into her husband?” He asked, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Rosalie crossed her legs, easing the heavy crystal glass from his fingers and stealing a sip. “No,” she murmured, “She reminded me Florian’s discontent has a notoriously short shelf life, and there was a perfectly lovely gentleman awaiting my attention down the hall.”

A genuine smile plucked at Red’s lips, “Well, as pleased as I am to have you in my arms, I am sorry Florian is still bent out of shape.”

Rosalie carded her fingertips through the man’s short hair, as was her custom. “I’m content just as we are. Florian will come around. Until then, I won’t be robbed of enjoying your company and showering you with affection.”

Raymond breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing fully into his seat as the woman stood, beginning her nightly ritual. “You’re sure you’re alright?” He asked, seeing the heavy weight pressing on those delicate shoulders.

Rosalie smiled warmly at him, stepping out of her pumps and unzipping her skirt. “I am, though I might need a little cheering up.” She admitted honestly, throwing him a playful wink. 

“I would offer you gold and rubies, but you don’t seem the type.” Red joked, standing and swaggering toward her, twirling one of her silky curls around his finger.

Rosalie wrinkled her nose, “You’re right, I’m more of a platinum and sapphires kind of girl.” She quipped, unaware Raymond was actually making a mental note of her preferences.

“What would you like? Name it and it’s yours.” He replied immediately, “You will learn, along with panty theft, I also have a penchant for doting rather heavily on those I care for.”

“I want more important things than gems and jewelry.” Rosalie intoned, discarding her clothing piece by piece.

“Such as?” Raymond pulled her into his arms, needing to feel her warm, silky skin beneath his fingertips.

“I want this spot, right here.” Her hand traced the crook of his shoulder, the spot she liked to curl up against when they cuddled.

Red halted his movements, watching the woman nuzzle her cheek into the alcove, greeting it like an old friend.

“I want these,” Rosalie trailed warm hands down his masculine arms, paying special attention to where his sleeves were rolled up, giving a peak at his tantalizing forearms, “wrapped around me, at every available opportunity.”

“And these,” her hands moved down to grasp his, bringing both palms up to her lips. Her fingertips lingered on his trigger finger, feeling the rough callous residing there from years of carrying a weapon.  “I want these to touch and tease, to calm and soothe, I want them to pull me close when I get too far for you to reach.” 

Raymond’s eyes glinted their surprise, his mind committing her requests to memory as though they were the only thing in this world worth memorizing. “Anything else?” He whispered, his voice gruff. He hadn’t expected her to be so open with him, to make these sweet, genuine requests. 

“I want these,” she caressed the expanse of his button down, “The moment they leave your frame, they become mine. I like wearing them, and I know you love watching me wander the house in them.”

Red chuckled, immediately removing his tie and getting to work on the many buttons standing in her way.

Rosalie assisted, tossing his waistcoat onto the nearby chair.

The man divested himself of the shirt, leaving the sleeves rolled up, and wrangled the beautiful woman into the still warm fabric. He buttoned only two of the buttons, leaving a large swath of her naked torso open to his viewing pleasure.

Rosalie mewed contentedly, burying her nose in the shirt’s collar and inhaling deeply.

The action was truthfully adorable, causing Raymond’s throat to tighten almost painfully as he watched the tension bleed from her shoulders.

“Tell me what else you want, little dove.” He coaxed, clutching the feminine frame flush against him.

Rosalie wriggled a hand between them, bringing it up to the man’s cheek. Her thumb dropped to gently trace his lips, “ I want these.” She purred, tilting her little face upward to gaze ardently at the soft, rosy lips, smiling broadly when the man kissed her thumb in response. “These are mine and mine alone, mine to nip and kiss and part with my tongue.” She murmured, leaning in to do just that.

Raymond sighed blissfully, deepening the contact and taking Rosalie with him toward their bed. 

They kissed until they were gasping for breath, swaying precariously on the spot and clinging tightly to one another.

“Show me, little dove.” Red voiced his insecurity when they finally broke, his hand still cupping her cheek. His breath fanned over the woman’s lips, bearing the subtlest hint of his preferred vintage, a scent and flavor Rosalie would forever associate with kissing him. 

“Show me nothing’s changed now we’re boldly out in the light.” 

Raymond needed to know she was still in this with him, despite Florian’s vehement disapproval. 

Those gray orbs lifted serenely, unflinching as they met Red’s expectant stare. Her dark lashes batted away the mist threatening to overflow, the truth finding its way to the young woman without pause. 

Rosalie found the stability she sought in Raymond’s broad frame. The cock of his head, the ever so subtle lean of his body to the right, the way he held her close, he soothed her simply by being in the same room. 

Nothing had changed for her, not one iota.

Rosalie pulled Red toward her, grasping the back of his neck and tugging him with her onto the bed. Her lips sought the sweet spot beneath his jaw, peppering the hollow of his throat with nips and kisses while she reached to undo his belt buckle.

Raymond grunted his approval, opening further to the affection. “I love when you do that.” He purred, grasping her upper arms in a firm but gentle grip.

Rosalie laughed a soft, warm laugh, tugging the heavy leather belt from its loops, tossing it toward the bench at the foot of their bed.

Red growled, pinning his lover’s lithe frame harder into the plush surface. He huffed his surprise when Rosalie rolled them both, pinning him so he was laying diagonally across the spacious mattress.

She made quick work of his slacks, unbuttoning them and tugging the fabric down his toned legs. His boxers went the same route, leaving him as naked as she in a matter of seconds.

Rosalie turned her attention toward the rapidly lengthening and thickening appendage between his legs. She trailed soft fingertips along his shaft for several long minutes before taking him fully in hand. Her small fist gripped his length firmly, pumping the rod in a smooth, steady rhythm. 

“Oh _God_ ,” husked Red, watching as though in a trance while the beautiful woman kneeling between his knees swirled her hand deftly over his aching head. His cock was rigid and pulsing with a bone-deep need, responding to each and every stroke of her slick grip.

“So hard for me,” Rosalie cooed thoughtfully, “I wonder, do other women get you this hot and bothered?”

A smug smirk plucked at Red’s mouth, “Already feeling possessive, are we?”

A sharp sting on his right hip made him gasp and chuckle. The little minx below had taken it upon herself to leave a deep red love bite on his skin in retaliation. The sensation enticed, drawing Raymond’s attention to the fact Rosalie’s warm, wet little mouth was a mere hair’s breadth from his shaft.

“You’re damn right I’m possessive.” She purred darkly, tightening her grip for a few strokes before loosening entirely, her palm just barely skirting the hot surface of the girthy appendage. “Though, it’s not like you have a leg to stand on in that department.” She reminded, unbuttoning his shirt and glancing pointedly down at her feminine frame, riddled with the fading evidence of Raymond’s possessiveness.

The man cocked his head in open appreciation of her nudity and his handiwork, idly thinking he would have to nip a few of those places again, if only to hear those delicious noises she made.

His complete lack of repentance made Rosalie laugh. “Shameless,” she chastised.

“Tease.” Growled Red, closing his eyes again and lifting instinctively into her touch only to have her release him. The man growled his frustration.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Rosalie soothed, a hint of a smirk in her voice, “I wouldn’t leave you in such a state.”

For the second time, he was surprised with a soft little peck to the very tip of his cock.

Rosalie smirked impishly up at him when his eyes flew open at the sensation. “You promised.” She reminded, placing a fuller, open-mouthed kiss to the straining shaft.

“ _Shit_.” He hissed, watching the action with unbridled delight. “I did promise.” Raymond recalled, mouth dropping open in arousal as her little pink tongue flitted over a vein, following the sensitive ridge to the base of his shaft, then back up to the tip.

Rosalie found the sight of him leaning forward, hopeful desire pouring from his features to be rather endearing. “I've been wanting you in my mouth for a very, _very_ long time.” She confided, blinking sweetly up at his shocked face. It took the woman a great deal of effort not to giggle at his gobsmacked visage.

“You have, have you?” Red rasped in an impossibly deep voice, utterly riveted by the declaration.

“ _Mmhmm_ ,” she hummed, drawing the rounded tip of his erection between, plump, rosy lips.

“Oh, _fuck_ me,” Husked Raymond, feeling her wet tongue flick playfully across his sensitive head.

“I thought you might like this,” she sighed, continuing her sensual play. “I’ve been wondering if I can make you half as desperate for release as you’ve made me.” She admitted, eyes never leaving her pastime.

“Is there even a question in your mind?” Red grunted, arching to meet her and grasping the sheets in a death grip.

Rosalie knew very well Raymond was unusually prodigious at making her shatter with the slightest touch, therefore there was a question in her mind. The woman couldn’t help but wonder if she lived up to his fantasies, too. 

“I want to make you come undone.” She whispered sincerely, watching entranced as her fingers gapped around his straining girth.

“You are,” he assured on the end of a moan, her grip tightening deliciously around him. “God, you’re making me loose my mind.” He groaned honestly, a shuddering gasp leaving his mouth as Rosalie suckled his cock again, humming contentedly.

“ _Jesus_ ,” the vibration made kaleidoscopic colors dance in Raymond’s vision, his body already toying with an excruciating edge. His head fell back, eyes closing to everything but the delectable sensations rippling in waves from his groin.

The talented little tongue trailed the length of his twitching member, flicking and swirling along its surface. Rosalie memorized each reaction Red gave, listening intently for which strokes made him gasp and moan, what touches made his body buckle with pleasure. 

Raymond slowly opened his eyes, taking in the incredible show. If his lover was focused when putting her empire to work, it was nothing compared to the way she focused on him now. She watched her movements with intense scrutiny, making the man’s dick twitch excitedly.

“I think he likes me.” She teased, tracing the pulsing appendage with a lone digit, making Red shiver.

“You’re his favorite place to be.” Raymond replied lasciviously, earning another love bite on his hip. The sensitive skin tingled pleasantly from Rosalie’s rough attention.

The woman giggled before finally taking his rigid length deep into her mouth, garnering his undivided attention once more.

His lover mewed her enjoyment as his turgid shaft slid all the way to meet the back of her throat. 

“ _Oh_ _fuck_ , _Rosalie_.” Red panted, working to keep his hips from thrusting into her willing mouth with abandon.

Her suckling made his knees weak. Rosalie was wickedly calculated, alternating between intense suction and soft, barely-there strokes, slowly building the man to a spine tingling peak.  She diligently teased the taut skin of his shaft and the swollen bulb of his head without stopping, losing herself to the act of making him climb the walls. 

Raymond doubted there was a man alive who could withstand such delectable torture for long. In a matter of minutes, Raymond was arching into her in desperation, hoping for that last little lick to drag him over the edge. 

“Please, little dove,” 

Rosalie pulled away slightly, flicking her tongue languidly against his testicles, feeling the bundle tighten beneath her assault. 

“God _…damn_!” Raymond snarled when she took him deep into her mouth once more. His forearms braced against the bed, the bottom of his fist connecting with the soft mattress with a despondent thud. 

“I need to come.” He pleaded, hips rocking into the delectable cavern, feeling her tongue ripple beneath his length.

“Then _come_ , Raymond.” Rosalie told him, releasing his aching member just long enough to make him moan plaintively.

“I want to come _with_ you, _inside_ you,” he insisted, attempting to pull her from the foot of the bed. 

Rosalie lifted reluctantly, placing a gentle hand on Raymond’s chest, pushing him to his back on the pristine sheets. “So do I,” she assured, returning to her excruciating pastime, “but you promised you’d be a good boy, so you getting between my legs will have to wait until I’ve thoroughly had my way with you.”

“ _Rosalie_ ,” Red all but begged, legs unconsciously spreading to better accommodate her slender frame between them. 

A giggle escaped her, “Your body is in agreement with me, darling.” She intoned knowingly, not missing the subtle spread of this thighs, the way his hips kept arching into her touch. “Your cock wants to come inside my warm, wet mouth.” She stated confidently, licking the man’s shaft as though he were a particularly satisfying lollipop.

“ _Fuck_ , honey, is that what you want?” Red gasped, opening his eyes to watch Rosalie’s pouty lips inching slowly down his member.

Those gray eyes scorched him from the inside out as they held his gaze, the soft feminine features of Rosalie Øllegaard nodding innocently up at him. “ _I’m not stopping until you give me what I want, Raymond._ ” She purred, her lips releasing his bulging head with an audible pop.

“ _Mother of God_ ,” Red husked, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily at the scene. 

Rosalie’s small fist continued to stroke him, pumping and squeezing the slick rod without stopping.

“Let go, darling,” she coaxed sweetly, “Let me make you as wild as you make me.”

“Yes.” He growled, fisting the sheets beside him as she took him deep into her mouth. The silky waves of honey blonde hair tickled his hips and thighs as Rosalie bobbed steadily on his twitching erection. 

She could taste the warm precum beading from his slit with each swipe of her tongue. The taste was enticing, intoxicating, a mix of salty sea, a hint of sweet, and a heady musk that was all Raymond. 

Red’s entire body was rigid and primed for release, exciting the hell out of his partner. The man’s toes had curled and a barrage of ragged groans tumbled low and deep in his broad chest. One of the muscles in his neck bulged with tension, just begging for his lover to nibble her way along it.

“You’re going to make me come.” Raymond panted brokenly, drawing his lover out of her reverie, finding him watching the arousing show she was performing with undisguised lust.

Rosalie mewled her arousal, writhing her tongue pointedly over his frenulum, pulling a snarl from his open mouth. She sucked hard, taking him to the very hilt and swirling her tongue along his velvety length. She felt the thick shaft flex between her lips, signaling how very close he was. Her small hand reached down to cradle his testicles, rolling the heavy sack with nimble fingers.

“ _Don’t stop_ , keep- _Fuck_ , keep sucking.” Red rasped, barely able to choke out the plea as his grip on reality slipped several notches.

To her credit, his lover did not pause, suckling at his rock hard head before taking him deep into her hot little mouth once again.

“ _Shit…_ Oh shit…” Red gasped, one of his knees giving an involuntary spasm. The point of no return rapidly bore down on him, his control unraveling before his eyes. Raymond’s hips bucked without rhythm, chasing that razor’s edge with every fiber of his being.

When Rosalie wriggled her tongue insistently against the underside of his cock, drawing heavily on the twitching member, the man completely lost it.

“ _Rosalie_ ” He snarled through a guttural moan, “ _Fuck…I’m…coming_!” He roared, arching into the delectable slide of her waiting mouth. 

Hot, heavy spurts of Raymond’s seed pulsed from his throbbing slit deep into his lover's throat, coating the hollow and her tongue with his orgasm.

Rosalie hummed, making the man’s eyes roll backward as the soft vibration combined with the swallowing motions the back of her throat made against his hypersensitive head.

“ _Christ_ , little dove,” he moaned, threading his fingers through her long blonde hair, slowing her movements as he shattered into a million pieces. Her touch left him quaking, his body deliriously sensitive and rutting the dying embers of his release into her hot, wet little mouth.  

The man’s whole body lurched forward when Rosalie drew on him one last time, releasing his spent cock with a husky, feminine moan. “Have I thoroughly convinced you?” She purred in an impossibly warm voice, nuzzling his nose and brushing her lips with his.

“Honey, you have no idea,” husked Red, thrilling at the taste of himself on her tongue as she doled out teasing flicks to his mouth. 

He had been on the receiving end of some incredible oral sex in his lifetime, but this woman had taken to the task with such sensuality, such desire, the man was a shivering wreck at the moment.

Rosalie, on the other hand, looked like the cat who caught the canary, “I like having my wicked way with you.” She tittered, quite pleased with the state of her lover.

“So do I,” quipped Raymond, “Should you feel another insatiable urge to have me at your mercy, I will happily make myself available for more of your methods of persuasion.”

“Will you, now?” Rosalie giggled, settling herself on the man’s lap. She could feel the heavy appendage beginning to stir beneath her.

“Mhm,” he nodded, cupping her cheek and pulling her back to his mouth. “I’ve spent a very long, tiring day waiting to be alone with you in this room. _Our_ room.” 

Rosalie sighed melodiously, immensely enjoying the words he uttered. This was their room now, their bed. There would be no sneaking back and forth in the early morning light, no more hiding their involvement, a fact for which Rosalie was immensely grateful.

“ _Ours_.” She agreed, pulling him close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview: Learning Curve
> 
> “How in the hell is this going to work?” Hissed Rosalie, barely containing her laughter.
> 
> “It’s very simple, little dove.” Red whispered with a wolfish grin.
> 
> “You’re negotiating your deal with _me _now, and something tells me it’s going to go very, very well.”__

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the rights to any of the Blacklist characters, I'm just borrowing them for my own enjoyment. This is my first fic ever, so please let me know if you're enjoying it!


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